


Where The Road Ends

by Skyesurfer12



Series: Wings Series [1]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 322,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyesurfer12/pseuds/Skyesurfer12
Summary: This is book three, the finale of the Wings Trilogy.  (Wings of Grace, Sins Fell Angels, Where the Road Ends)





	1. Chapter One

Where the Road Ends

Chapter One

-x-

The crooked bolt, hammered at the tip to be slightly narrower, was his first mistake. And blind spots were always tricky. He let his fingers twist it into place to get it partway into the pilot hole before reaching for the wrench. That’s how it happened.

“Okay, easy. Don’t drop it,” Chuck told himself. Flat on his back, he scooted his shoulders further to the left in order to reach the impossibly tight spot under the hull. It’s not that he needed a better look to see where he was driving it – he’d felt around the rudder and found the loose joint, but he did it anyway because his brain had wandered. Chuck lifted his head off the ground, determined to find out why the bolt wasn’t catching next to the intake valve.

And just like that, his forehead knocked against the bottom of a solid body joist, which meant he had every right to yelp and drop the wrench.

“Ow! Why – why do you do that?” Swinging a hand up to rub his head, Chuck kicked a leg out in frustration and nearly toppled one of the sawhorses suspending the flying machine from the ground. It was only blind luck that the sawhorse didn’t land on its side, sending the skeleton frame down on top of him. The kid figured it wouldn’t kill him, but it would set him back a good month or so in his experimental design of the wings, right when he was making some progress on the distortion of airflow over them.

“Dammit,” he hissed, using his ankle to steady the saw horse. The better question was, when would he actually be able to focus – totally and completely focus – without his brain traveling far away?

Chuck closed his eyes and pushed his thumb and forefinger against his lids. He gave himself permission to take a minute and push through it before he could empty his mind again.

Every time it happened, he was getting closer to healing. Every time, the day it happened was further in the past.

Suitably tuning out his thoughts, Chuck opened his eyes and shifted again, remembering not to lift his head when he reached for the tool box. It was getting easier, wasn’t it? Only thinking of his current projects and newest theorems, shoving back the random undercurrent of hurt and loss, the misery and angst, the constant wonder. Inside his workshop, inside his head, he had control now. Chuck could make it blissfully silent, sinking into it. He could make himself block out that teasing picture in his mind of a man on a paint horse ahead of him on the grassy trail. The scents of a fire in the farm’s hearth, worn leather, his damp skin after a swim in the creek –

You’re doing it again.

Chuck sighed. The worst, though, was lying awake long before sunrise, the world turning purple and blue outside the window while he stared at the underside of the rafters in his rented bedroom. It was when he felt the closest, as if the warmth under the blanket came from another body rather than his own. Chuck could stay like that, pretend it was him.

Until the clang of his mechanical alarm clock rang, signaling that it was time to wash up, walk down the stairs, and face the day.

The first month was the roughest.

Okay, maybe the first few.

Chuck gave the wrench a toss and tugged on the soggy bandana he had tied loosely around his neck, using it to mop his forehead. Knowing he was alone, he squeezed his eyes shut one more time, swiped it across his cheeks and finally, peeved at himself, at the sweat that had trickled from his eyes down his temple.

He could blame the sawdust that seemed to be perpetually floating in the air in his workshop, but that would be lying. Lying to everyone outside his workshop was one thing, but doing it to himself was only dragging him out of a spot he needed to climb from ... one of these days.

“Idiot,” he said under his breath, letting the bandana fall. He felt his throat close up and his eyes burn but he had to hold back the rest. Four months and seventeen days was too long for this to still be happening. Stupid tears. God, what a big jackass baby. What if Casey were –

He was stronger than this. Didn’t he prove that already?

Chuck swallowed, turned his head to begin digging through the tool chest. Maybe the worst part of the day wasn’t hiding under the blankets. It was the monotony he had fallen into without even trying. The center of the quaint town was only five blocks away. His landlord told him that the shops were nothing like the ones in Canada and it would do him some good to get out, but it hardly seemed worth it. He had enough clothes to get by, and the mercantile across the street had most of the goods he needed without having to search around.

Throughout the whole debate, Dr. Devon Woodcomb jokingly warned him that one of these days he’d drag him out if he had to, shove him in the passenger seat of his black Doctor’s Buggy, and make the kid accompany him to the Cedars restaurant, at least for lunch on the porch. They could watch the fishing boats moor at the long docks, hauling in their catch of bluefish from the Shackleford Banks.

Chuck had to promise him one of these days he would get his head out of his current projects, put on his best shirt, and take the ride. But not today.

Was that really a few months ago? Huh. Well, time flies when you’re ... yeah.

“Okay ... right there. Think you can get in there ... oh, crap.” Stop talking to inanimate objects, he reminded himself. Chuck rolled his eyes and tightened the bolt until the resistance told him that was far enough. Anymore, and he’d end up with a crack along the frame, and he didn’t need that headache again.

But evidently, Lady Luck was going easy on him today. Instead of splitting the joist like he very well could’ve, the plank and bolt came together like they were meant to fly someday.

“All right. Not bad ....” Chuck focused on his breathing, only that for a moment. It was getting easier. Every day, actually.

Free to move, he then squirmed out from under the outstretched wing and brushed off a pebble which had dug into his shoulder for the past ten minutes.

“How can it be this hot in mid-October?” Chuck mumbled, attempting to collect himself by taking a gulp from his canteen. Even in the early evening, when the sun’s rays slanted through the dusty windows, he felt like he was swimming through a hot bath. Unseasonal for North Carolina this time of year, Devon had told him. More like Hell, Chuck had corrected.

Taking a heavier pull from the canteen, the kid decided just to ditch his shirt, tossing it over one end of the workbench. Why should he care? He was half naked and dripping, but no one save the good doctor ever bothered to come this far back from the house to visit his workshop. Except the one time, but he was able to shoo that man away without too much trouble.

That errant thought wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact that the temperature in the stifling barn was soaring higher, and he was getting tired of wondering if he should still be hiding. One of the worst parts of Casey ditching him or dying – see, he could think it now without being a jackass - was that he never did get word back to the kid. Was Liam dead? What happened to his father? Did Chuck still have a reason to run?

At times, warm evenings like this when the drone of cicadas filled his head, he hated John Casey for what he did. Hated him for putting a drug in his food, taking away his right to make a choice or say good-bye, for leaving him hanging cold because of a crazy sense of retribution.

“Damn selfish,” Chuck heard himself say. That’s what it was. He wasn’t lying about loathing him, either. Most days, he was disgusted with John Casey for using him like a two-bit tramp and dumping him. Disgusted for falling for it, too. The hatred only grew with every tedious hour through another clammy day in the lowlands, when the wind refused to even kick up an ocean breeze, for god sakes.

Chuck rested a hip on the side of his workbench and looked down at himself, past a stubborn swath of dirt streaked over his chest to the rest of his grubby appearance. It was probably not proper to wear blue jeans in a gentrified town such as Beaufort, but honestly, he didn’t give a darn for those things anymore. Even though his jeans were also drenched, sticking to every inch of his long legs, they were still more comfortable than a pair of men’s acceptable wool trousers or canvas dungarees.

“Probably enough for moping for today,” he softly chided himself. “You know, you’re not going to get better if you don’t face it.”

“Did you say something?”

“What?” Chuck dropped the rag and turned towards the paddock door to see his landlord and only friend in Beaufort studying him. “Oh, hey. It was nothing ....” He quickly picked up the rag again and began wiping his hands, suddenly hyperaware of his bare skin, the sense of being exposed. “I was just ....” Doing what? “Talking to myself.”

“You do that a lot, bro,” Devon said, lifting a brow. “Mind if I enter the Dungeon?”

“Hah. Beware the dragon.” Chuck gave a bland smile at their ongoing joke and grabbed his tool chest off the ground, setting it on the bench. He had to shake his head at his landlord’s strange way of speaking sometimes. Take ‘bro’ and ‘awesome’, for example. As far as Chuck knew, he and Devon were not brothers, and the kid didn’t find the world, as a whole, quite as awesome as Devon did.

Devon grinned back at him, his patrician features caught in the waning sunlight angling through the west window. Seriously, how could that face be real? Chuck never dreamed he’d be living with a man who had to be the freaking model for the statue of David. And even then, Michelangelo would be pissed off to know the carved marble didn’t come close to replicating this guy.

But no matter how hard Chuck tried to dislike Devon Woodcomb, MD, he threw up his hands and gave up after the first few weeks living under the same roof with him. Yes, he really was that guy.

“Wow, buddy, warm in here. Sure you don’t want to come outside? There are other people to talk to besides the guy standing over there.”

“Who? Oh,” Chuck said when he saw what Devon meant. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks.” He began sorting through loose bolts at the bottom of his tool chest. “And I think I only need to be worried if I start answering.”

Devon let him begin organizing according to size before he let out a resigned breath. “You’re never honest with yourself, are you?”

Chuck glanced over at him. Some days he really regretted leasing a room from a doctor. Especially an intuitive one who seemed concerned about his welfare. “Honest with myself about what?”

“That you lost something ... or someone. And it hurt you,” Devon said. He pushed off from the paddock door and strode inside the barn, putting his hands on his hips. “One of these days, you’re going to tell who me it was. Your father? Mother? Maybe a ... friend?”

Friend. It was just his luck that Devon happened to sense something Chuck tried to keep buried, but he never referred to female companionship. Never a mention of courting a girl. Was it written on Chuck’s forehead that he really had no sexual interest in ladies? (Not to mention, after meeting Sabine and Luciana, womenfolk scared the crap out of him.)

“I lost a two-inch bolt,” Chuck said without looking up. “Does that count?”

“One of these days, bro, I’ll make good on my threat,” Devon said, flashing a row of perfect teeth. “Put a sack over your head, carry you out to the buggy. And not because I need a witty conversationalist as company when I make my daily visits. But because you need to get outside of these four walls. See the city. Meet people ....” He paused to eye his young tenant, up and down. “People who don’t mind sweaty, tall men with a bit of moroseness about them.”

Chuck looked over at Devon. “Smile more, sweat less. Got it. Glad we had this little session today, Doctor.” Apparently, the other man didn’t perspire or have to live with wrinkled clothes the rest of the mere mortals suffered through, even in the sweltering heat. Indeed, Devon’s charcoal grey cutaway jacket showed no effect, laying smoothly along his broad shoulders and tapered to his waist, allowing the bottom of his vest and watch chain to be seen. His black trousers appeared freshly laundered and perfect. Chuck had to wonder about the bubble of fresh air that had to be surrounding him. How the heck did he do that?

“Having some fun with you, bro. Nothing else seems to work.”

“Well, newsflash, bro. Neither does that.” Oops. Chuck didn’t remember ever being quite this ... brittle. He bit down on his lip and went back to his task of sorting. “Sorry. Message received. I’ll try. It’s just that ... I’m kind of busy here ....”

“I can see that. Sure you don’t want to join me for a short trip to North River, buddy?” Devon held his black leather satchel aloft. “Mrs. McCandlish has a new baby. With croup. Exciting, huh?”

“Wow, you’re actually trying your best to make it sound enticing.”

“See? I’d just advise you not to get too close, but you should come for the drive at least.”

“Devon, I mean this as no offense, but one of the last things I want to do is go on your rounds with you.”

“I’m going to keep asking. It’d be good for you, Chuckles.”

“And as long as it involves a hotter-than-hell trip topped off with crying babies, I’ll still respectively decline. But thank you, anyway.” Chuck pushed off from his workbench and began adjusting one of the wing’s wooden braces. He knew Devon only meant well, and one of these days he should put in the effort. Just not today. “Do you need me to start supper while you’re gone?”

“Nah. Mrs. Somerset left something in the oven.” Devon showed his relief that the housekeeper rescued them by slapping the kid on the shoulder a bit too enthusiastically. “No need to show off those stellar cooking skills of yours tonight, man.” He tilted his head slightly. “Or ever.”

“I’ll have you know roast chicken is supposed to be that color.”

“Maybe where you came from, Chuckster, but not in the South,” Devon said. “Like to know where that is, too. The place you call home?”

“I told you. Canada.”

“How many provinces in your homeland, did you say?”

“Uh, well –”

“Okay, here’s an easier one. Who’s the prime minister?”

“I ... um, it might’ve slipped my mind.”

“Capital city?” Devon asked.

Chuck winced. “Quebec?”

“Ottawa.”

“Oh, of the country – well, sure. I thought you meant -”

“Not in a sharing mood today, I see.” Devon’s eyes drifted down to the workbench before scanning over to the skeletal structure of the flying machine. Maybe he noticed the additions over the past few days, warping wires that crisscrossed from the top and bottom wing spans, holding them parallel to each other and the ground. Chuck was rather proud of his bi-plane configuration, but Devon simply looked perplexed. “You are a strange, lanky man, bro. But I like you.”

“Thank you ... I think.”

As he took another moment to study the contraption, Devon suddenly straightened and pulled out a paper from his satchel. “Oh, that reminds me. I picked this up at the mercantile this morning when I checked on Mr. Stone. Thought you might want to read one of the articles.”

Chuck glanced down at the newspaper Devon held out, trying to make out one of the headlines, but it was downright impossible with the way it was folded. “Which article? Oh, my hands are a little greasy,” he said, looking down. “Do you want to read it?”

“Heh. You’ll like this, bro.” Devon cleared his throat, his voice holding undertones of mirth as he read from the front page. “‘Phantom Airships and the Ghost Men who Die Dreaming.’”

“Ghost men?”

Devon held up the paper. “I haven’t read it yet, but it looks to be an article about flying machines.”

“Really.” Chuck wiped his hands on his pants, took the paper, and skimmed the headline. “I wonder if the writer could’ve picked a title a little more sensational. I guess ‘Fatal Airships and the Posse of Quixotic Fools Who Fabricate Them’ was taken.”

Devon laughed. “You have to admit, people are mystified by ... inventors,” he said. “Especially the ones who believe man will fly. People like, well ....”

“Like me. You can say it.” Years of people questioning his ideas made him immune to skeptics, so Chuck brushed it off with a tight-lipped smile. After reading the byline, he lifted his head, systematically searching his memory. “Roy Howard. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Seems to me that was the man who came poking around here a few months ago,” Devon reminded him. “The one who wanted to meet the young inventor who thought he was going to fly that thing.”

The name immediately jumped out of his foggy memory. “How could I forget? He was a piece of work.” Chuck lowered the paper and shook his head a little to clear it. “By the way, did I ever thank you for getting rid of him?”

“Didn’t need to. That’s what bros do,” Devon said. “Lock it out.”

Chuck just looked down at the extended fist, his own bare chest, and folded his arms in front of himself. Damn, he would never understand this guy. “Um, that’s swell ... really,” he said, relieved when Devon dropped his fist, though the man looked wounded. “I wonder how it ended up in the Carolina Watchman. Didn’t he tell you he was from New York?”

“I’d say that it went out over the AP wire service. Associated Press?” Devon smiled and patted his shoulder. “What rock did you say you were living under before you arrived here? All the weeklies pick up stories along the news circuits now.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Chuck said a little defensively. “I guess I just never expected someone to come snooping around here.” Someone perhaps surreptitiously sent by his father or Liam? He felt goosebumps race up his arms to the back of his neck, not knowing which would be worse. “Besides, he had no interest in the machine. Only to make me out to be a lunatic. No thanks.

“Hey, look at this.” Devon pointed to a detailed lithograph print that was splashed over a quarter of the front page. “’The Aerodome’, he calls it ... Professor Langley. Ever hear of him? Huh. In-ter-esting. Reminds me of a cake roll they sell at Lucille’s Bakery.”

“With two gooseneck chisels stuck in it,” Chuck added with pursed lips. More sweat trickled, so he wiped the rag over the back of his neck, repressing a smile. “Go ahead. You can say it.”

“Okay, but it’s obvious.” Devon transferred his gaze from the paper to Chuck’s face. “That thing – whatever the Professor calls it – is never going to fly.”

“Oh. Right.” Chuck leaned forward and cocked his head at the photo. “Now he is a crack pot.”

“He is?”

“Sure,” Chuck said, handing the paper back to him. “Look at this. The curved wings? No braces? They aren’t going to work, flapping like that. They’ll come apart before he gets off the ground.”

“Birds flap,” Devon pointed out. “Ever notice that, bro?”

“You’re making a point.”

“Yes, I am.” Devon’s smile grew even wider.

“And you do that very well,” Chuck said, watching Devon set the paper down on his tool chest.

“Last chance to make rounds with me, bro.”

“Pass.” Chuck softened it with a smile and a nod towards a pile of lumber on the floor. “Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that ... again.”

“Sor – I said that already.” Chuck pushed a hand through his hair as he formulated his next excuse. When he pulled it back, it was a sticky mess. “It’s, ah, just that I’ve got work to do.”

“And you call him a crack pot.” With a wink, Devon tightened his grip on the satchel’s handle. “Anyway, I haven’t read it yet, but there you go. I’ll be back in a few hours for supper. Uh, don’t go near the kitchen, okay, bro? Mrs. S. rustled up a pot roast.”

“You’re making another point, I see.” Chuck rolled his eyes. His landlord had no obligation to share his dinner with the kid every night, but the two bachelors living under one roof seemed to settle into a routine that suited both of them. Small, pithy talk over a meal at the end of the day, often with Devon telling him of the day’s adventures and gently asking questions about the flying machine.

Though Chuck was wary at first, he found Devon had no other motives except to be a friend. It was as if Chuck, a somewhat fragmented specimen who showed up at his door one evening to ask about the sign in the window, was his own little Human Rehabilitation Project.

Well, good luck with that.

“Go be awesome,” Chuck said, a weak attempt at humor. Devon smiled and gave him an odd sign with a thumb. As the other man turned to leave, the kid heard himself pipe up before he could stop himself. “Hey, Devon?”

“Yeah?”

Chuck huffed. “Um, keep asking ... okay?”

Devon flashed a smile, the one that was capable of twisting women about his little finger if he chose. “Sure thing, bro.” At the paddock door, the man hesitated, scanning the dusty barn before he looked directly at Chuck. When he did, the kid saw his blue eyes were more somber than a minute ago. “A word of advice?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chuck said, his voice a little cooler than expected.

“Whatever you’re looking for, man, you’re not going to find it within these four walls.”

“Oh.” Chuck stayed where he was, leaning against his bench, until the sting behind his eyes began to burn. “Thanks, Devon.”

Should I stop looking? Maybe I have to accept it, what happened, happened.

Or he’d go slowly insane. Either way.

Devon waved his good-bye, but a few seconds later his head popped out from behind the door again. “Reminds me. Talk about nosy folks snooping around here? I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you, but there was a man here looking for you earlier today.”

“A man – what?” Chuck blinked at the doctor. “He came ... here?”

“Yeah. Around lunch time. I stopped at home - after leaving the Williams Farm.”

“He asked ... for me?”

“You’re the only Chuck who lives here, kid.” Devon frowned. “Though he didn’t seem to know your last name. Odd.”

“Not -?” Please not -

“Adams. That was it,” Devon said. “Anyway, it surprised me to see someone walking through the yard at the side of the house. He must’ve been back here before I spotted him. Trying to pass himself off as a dandy, too. Bowler hat, high collar. He seemed in a hurry, though, when I told him he was trespassing.”

Chuck faltered as he set down a wrench. Glancing away, his eyes caught sight of the bolts he had bought at the mercantile around lunch time. Something that trivial had saved him this time. “What – what did he say?”

“Pretty tight lipped,” Devon told him, his brow furrowing as he recalled it. “When he saw me, he tried to act like he was my buddy. Or yours, I suppose. But, don’t worry, man, I saw through it. The guy had a fake smile you can’t trust. Maybe just one of those newspaper correspondents, again, eh? Wanting to see your odd bird? Hey, you should be flattered, bro.”

“Did he say anything else?” Chuck found it hard to swallow.

“He said you were a friend he had lost track of,” Devon explained, “but now that he was in town, he wanted to catch up with you.”

A sense of dread turned Chuck’s knees to water. His hands, already shaking, trembled harder, but thankfully, he hadn’t dropped anything. This was all a mistake. He shouldn’t have stayed this long, he should never have believed that he was safe here.

“You okay?”

“What?” Chuck jerked upright. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.” He wasn’t, he knew that much. “Devon, is there anything else you remember?”

“Nah, not much – oh, wait. The pistol.”

“A ... pistol?”

“Yep.” Devon patted his pocket, which Chuck knew held an elegantly carved Smoothbore handgun he carried on his rounds. “It was a silver six shot. Pearl grips ... pretty awesome.” A grin flickered over his face. “Reminded me of one my father has. A real gentlemen’s piece. More for show than blow.”

“Comforting. Are ... you sure that’s it?”

“Uh-huh – oh, man.” Devon slid his pocket watch back in his vest. “Sorry, bro. Gotta run. I promised Mrs. McCandlish I’d be back to check on the baby by now.”

“But –”

“See you!” Devon waved off his question and tipped his head towards the flying machine. “Try to get some sun today, bro. You look like you saw a ghost.”

The paddock door closed. In the barn, finally shut off from the rest of the world, Chuck turned back to his workbench and just stood, staring down at scraps and nails. Now that he didn’t have Devon to deceive, it was possible to simply stop and stare and just let the numbness overwhelm him.

Who was looking for him? Correction, who had found him? Could it have been just a curious stranger or eager newshound? Was there still a reward for finding him? Or was it a fluke? Maybe the ones he was afraid of thought he was dead.

In a way he all but was, for all the good hiding and waiting for Casey did him.

Not now.

He was going to have to decide. No dragging his feet this time. Either Chuck would have to accept the risk that the man’s visit was just a coincidence, or pack up all of his belongings once again, find a new place to start his existence. New people to get used to, crowding him and wanting to know about his life, using up all the damned oxygen and –

“Hello, Chuck.”

Chuck whirled around. His eyes traveled up, down, and finally froze on the man’s clean-shaven, handsome face. “Oh, God,” was all he could think to say at first. He scrambled backwards, not caring that his heel knocked on that same damn sawhorse and nearly sent it to the ground again. Steadying it and cursing himself for looking like an idiot, Chuck finally regained his composure and folded his arms over his dirt-streaked bare chest, glaring.

Unlike Chuck, the man was perfectly put together, suit unwrinkled, not a sleek hair out of place. He certainly didn’t look surprised by seeing him again or put off by the kid’s appearance. Not in the least. Instead, the visitor strolled forward, not taking his eyes from Chuck as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Did you miss me, buddy?”

-x-

“Is this seat taken?” Without waiting, the large man settled on the stool behind the massive, mahogany bar before the other man answered. He spared the old mudsill only a glimpse before turning to the bartender. “Two scotches.”

“Don’t have none. Whiskey okay?”

The large man nodded. While the bartender fetched the bottle, the newcomer turned to the elderly gentleman and pointed his chin at the old dodger’s empty glass. “I don’t drink alone. Hope you don’t mind whiskey.”

“Want to know what my favorite kind of snake pizen is?” the older man asked, his face splitting into a grin.

Now the other man could see that the geezer, a sodbuster who had wandered over from one of the local farms no doubt, was missing most of his teeth. “What kind is that?”

“Free.” The old-timer nudged him and laughed at his own joke. He would’ve fallen off the barstool except the other man caught his arm. “Free!” he said again, because apparently it was funnier the second time.

Hell, just his luck. The geezer was snockered. “Live here in town?” he asked anyway, hoping the farmer was grounded enough to answer a few questions. “Looks like you know your way around.” Every sleazy, moth-eaten saloon, at least.

“All m’ life,” the old farmhand said, wiping his nose with a bandana. Two glasses of whiskey were set in front of them, sloshing as the bartender hurried to take care of another customer. “Drink until you shoot the cat!” the geezer called out. In a flash, he lifted the drink and downed the entire thing. “Drink up. Yer buyin’, right?”

“Yes, I’m buying,” the tall man confirmed. “But it will cost you.”

“Hey!” The drunk swung his head around, eyes springing open. “You jus’ said –”

“Easy, old-timer. The only thing it’s going to cost you ... is information. We have a deal?”

The fossil pushed his hat back on his head and squinted over at him. “What kind of information?”

“Nothing really.” Reaching into his coat, the outsider tugged out a paper and set it out on the bar top. “Just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

The geezer wiped his hands down his shirt, scrubbing them over his belly as he considered the offer. “Need another drink first,” he said.

“We have a deal.” The man ducked his chin and flagged down the bartender to get his attention. “Another for my new friend here, if you don’t mind.”

-x-

“Miss you?” Chuck gaped. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think that if Casey were here, he wouldn’t miss him at all. Bullet hole. Dead center in that perfect forehead, right between eyes two shades darker than Casey’s. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I’m not certain what I expected, Chuck,” Bryce replied evenly, closing the paddock door behind him, “but not this.” He trained his eyes on the kid, roving up and down for a moment before a light smile crossed his face. “It really is you. You look good. A little rougher around the edges, maybe, but still the same Chuck.”

Being inspected like a twitchy race horse had Chuck self-consciously looking down at himself. He hardly looked decent, not with the amount of sweat and dirt covering an immodest expanse of his upper body. The blue jeans, ripped at the knees from long days sitting in the dirt in his workshop, couldn’t be farther from their time spent together at Harvard.

Chuck willed himself to keep his stance relaxed so that his old roommate couldn’t read his body language. “Bryce, answer the question. Why are you here? How did you find me?”

“I’m here because I felt I owed you an apology.” Bryce grinned over at his one-time best friend. It looked forced. “Not through letters like before. In person. Just you and me. Two best friends back together again.”

Anger, something Chuck thought he had shoved down for years, bubbled up like it was yesterday. He hated the fact that anxiety and fear came with it, but running from the past wasn’t only about the Cipher, it was about Bryce as well. And throughout the entire time, Chuck never thought he’d have to face either again.

Chuck stared at Bryce, saying nothing. The urge to slug the other man made him clench his fists, but he held back, only because he had witnessed his ex-roommate in a saloon brawl once. Not pretty. Somehow, Bryce Larkin knew how to fight, and the thought of him sitting on Chuck’s chest and forcing him to listen was enough to make Chuck stay still.

“And I can see you’re not going to make my apology any easier, but I guess I expected that,” Bryce went on. “You think I hurt you. It’s okay to believe that. I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious?” Chuck asked, eyebrows rising. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Bryce said, extending his hand as if Chuck would walk right up to him and take it. “Let’s be friends again. No hard feelings.”

Chuck looked down at the open palm as if it were a rattler. “You have to be kidding. You found me – and I’d like to know how – to apologize ... just like that? And now everything between us is going to go back the way it was?” The bitterness in his own voice surprised him, but maybe he was due to be that guy for once. “After ... what happened? That night ... on the river bank after graduation? My God, Bryce.”

“I sent you letters explaining everything, Chuck. Didn’t you get them?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Chuck said. “And I didn’t open a single one of them. You should’ve figured that out since I never replied to you.”

“So you do have hard feelings after all.” Bryce sighed and shook his head. “I am sorry, Chuck. We were just kids. Having a little fun, right, buddy?”

The endearment made Chuck’s fists, hidden under his crossed arms, clench more tightly. “Fun, Bryce?” He counted to five in his head, settling himself, because he didn’t want his voice to shake. “I’m not blaming you for getting me, well, slightly inebriated that night. I was stupid and I did that on my own, but what happened after that .... That was all you.”

“Yes, we were drunk.”

“God, that’s all you have to say?” Chuck gave him an incredulous look. “You ... had your way with me!”

“We had sex.” Bryce held out both hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture as if it was nothing. “Besides ... it seems like you’d been waiting long enough for it to happen. Am I right?”

“I don’t believe this,” Chuck muttered. He turned towards his workbench so he didn’t have to look at him. “You were gone by the time I woke up the next morning. Without a word of explanation. You left without saying ‘hey, thanks but no thanks’ or even good-bye, not that that would’ve helped. What was I supposed to think?”

“That’s why I sent the letters,” Bryce said. There was a crunch of gravel under his boots as he stepped closer. “Which you chose not to read.”

“So it’s my fault.”

“I had a train to catch that morning. My father was there to bring me home. I couldn’t have him find me in bed with you.”

“Amazing. Just amazing.” Chuck, still facing the wall and refusing to turn, shook his head and clung to his poise. It took everything he had. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wasn’t waiting all that time for something to happen between us? That you picked the worst possible time to do it? Or how about this: what it’d be like for me to wake up alone that morning, wondering –”

“If there was something wrong with you,” Bryce finished for him, “and that was the reason I took what I did - and left?”

Damn him for being right about that. Chuck remembered the feeling of coming out of his drunken slumber in Bryce’s bed, sliding an arm over to find the other side of the covers cold and the room half empty.

“I didn’t wonder that at all,” Chuck lied. “What I wondered was how someone who professed to be a best friend could end up being such a no-account snake in the grass.”

“And you’re still sticking with not being bitter, is that it?” When it was obvious Chuck was ignoring him, Bryce continued in a chummier tone, “Hey, look at me. Wouldn’t this be easier if you at least made eye contact?”

“Go to hell,” Chuck mumbled, grabbing the first thing he could find lying there to keep his hands occupied. A screwdriver. He tried not to think what Bryce would look like with it sticking from one of those flawless blue eyes. “How did you find me?”

Evidently the answer to that one was to draw a little closer. “You’ll have to turn around if you want to see it.”

Chuck fiddled with the screwdriver, resigning himself to looking him in the face again because he had to know. “Okay, fine,” he said, slowly turning to see Bryce too close for comfort. “See what?”

“You honestly haven’t read the Carolina Watcher?” The paper that Bryce had pulled out from inside his suit jacket had remained neatly folded under his arm until now. “Nice article, even though I know you’ve always been secretive about ... certain parts of your life.” He briefly appraised the flying machine and shrugged. “Just be thankful you didn’t come off as crazy as this fellow on the front page. Aerodome? Now that just seems a bit off the rocker.”

Though he was now brimming with curiosity, Chuck didn’t move to grab the paper. “That article isn’t about me.”

Bryce seemed to know something Chuck didn’t. Right there on his face was the smug expression from college days, the one Bryce flashed when he had pulled off one of his infamous hoaxes. Chuck could still smell Professor Allen’s carriage, filled to the brim with manure. And how Bryce had not been expelled from Harvard for stealing exams his senior year, the kid had no idea.

“Funny, I thought so, too,” Bryce said. “But I don’t think you read the entire story. I won’t read it to you, but we may want to jump to page seven, Chuck. Kind of enlightening.”

“Page Seven?” Chuck still couldn’t believe he was hearing this.

“Sure.” Bryce flipped it open and held it up for Chuck to read. “The story on ’Ghost Men’ continues here. Though I have to say, you don’t quite look like a ghost in that picture. Pretty much the Chuck I know in black and white, isn’t it?”

“Why in the hell would you even think that – oh.” Chuck’s eyes swooped down and blew wide, the denial dying in his throat. There was no refuting it. In the far right of the frame, someone looking hard could deduce that the young man in the picture, his face half hidden by one of the wings, had a striking resemblance to a runaway from Boston.

Oh, God, Chuck thought. Only one person in a thousand would be able to tell it was him. Yet, Bryce was here. He rarely missed anything.

Picking up on Chuck’s baffled expression, Bryce grinned. “I’m your best friend, Chuck. When I spot a photograph of you, even a grainy one where it’s obvious you had no idea someone was taking a shot of you and your ... well, machine over there, I think I’m capable of picking you out.”

“But how did he manage to ..?” Chuck’s whisper trailed off as he tried to squint at the article. Straining to see only because he’d have to come closer to Bryce to read it and no way did he want to do that.

“It was easy enough, I’m sure,” Bryce said. “Here. I’ll give you the abbreviated version. It seems the correspondent who dropped by to see you a while back –”

“- that bastard -”

“Oh, you’ve heard of him. Good. Well, according to the article, he didn’t like your answer when you told him to mind his own business.”

“That’s not exactly the way I put it,” Chuck said, rising up on the balls of his feet a little. “Actually, it sounded a lot like get the fuck out of here. You know what? You should try it sometime.” It wasn’t the language Chuck typically resorted to, but he figured it wasn’t a usual day, either.

“Charming.” Bryce somehow managed to pull off a sincere look. “You always did get feisty when you thought you were crossed.”

“Tell me you didn’t dismiss what happened between us in one lousy sentence just now.”

“Let’s agree that we can see it differently. Think we can do that?” At Chuck’s deepening frown, Bryce ruffled the paper in front of his eyes. “Hey, you wanted to know how you ended up here, didn’t you?”

Chuck shrugged, not walking away yet.

“Okay,” Bryce said, and apparently interpreting the silence as agreement, he glanced towards one of the windows at the end of the workshop. “Probably from over there, based upon the angle. It’s not even odd that you didn’t see him take the picture. He could’ve stood right out there. Detective cameras can be useful, I suppose, when the subject doesn’t want to be photographed.”

“Detective cameras?”

“Handheld, of course. You have been living under a rock somewhere, haven’t you?” Somehow, just that offhand, self-assured statement was enough for Chuck to want to follow through on the impulse to punch him. “They’ve even been designed to stay hidden – in a hat or a walking stick ..?”

The kid looked down, saw his knee was jiggling, and grimaced. God, he should’ve clobbered that jerk-writer with his walking stick when he had the chance.

“That doesn’t explain how you showed up on my doorstep the same day as this paper,” Chuck said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You still live in Atlanta.”

“Ellie told you?”

“You shouldn’t have sent a letter to her when you couldn’t get to me,” Chuck said, his voice stiff. “Funny, how someone who thinks he’s smart had so much trouble figuring out he was being ignored.”

“I only did it for your own good, buddy. I wanted to make sure you were okay. When you didn’t answer, I knew Ellie would.”

Chuck’s face screwed up at the logic. More like betrayal. “How’d you get here so quickly?”

“The article went over the wires, Chuck,” Bryce explained as if he was speaking to a child. “It was in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution last week. Probably in the New York Sun or the Boston Gazette the week before that. Everyone likes sensationalism. It sells. So on a day when news is light, the papers pick up odd stories from the telegraph wire. People want to read about a good scandal. See photos of a hotel becoming a heap of smoldering ashes, train wrecks ... or crazy young inventors and their flying machines.”

“Boston,” Chuck echoed, flinching. He felt something turn to ice between his shoulder blades and dread beginning to nibble at his spine. But now, in front of Bryce, was not the time to give into an acute panic attack. He’d do it later, when he could really wallow in it for a while. As if it worked that way.

Biting down on the inside of his mouth seemed to ward it off for now. The pain helped drag him back to the reality. His movements clumsy, Chuck spun around, showing Bryce nothing but his sweaty, bare back, and began tossing his tools into the metal chest. “You should leave.”

“What are you doing?” Bryce asked.

“Nothing.” Okay, brain, settle down. Getting Bryce out had to be his first priority if there was any hope of once again dissolving into the night. Bad luck handed him another detour. It was obvious now. Chuck had to run.

Behind him, he heard Bryce step closer and the rustling as he folded the paper. “Looks like you’re in a hurry.”

“Uh, if that’s all you came to tell me, you can see I’m pretty busy here, so you should probably -”

“Come to dinner with me,” Bryce interrupted. “Tonight. Right now.”

“What?” Chuck, who had turned his attention to packing up, almost sent a swallow down the wrong pipe. He coughed and thumped his chest. “You can’t be ser -”

“You heard me. I’m taking you out to dinner. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, buddy. Change your clothes.” Bryce’s eyes raked over his chest, back up to his face, and the amused smirk grew. “At least get a shirt on. I don’t think the Beaulieu Grande allows torn jeans in the dining room, but I know for a fact being half naked will raise a few eyebrows.”

Chuck gave him a bewildered look. “Do you really think that I want to go to dinner with you?”

“Come on,” Bryce said, lacing his voice with playfulness though it didn’t fool anyone, “it will be a chance to work things out between us. We should put it behind us, Chuck. Let’s just enjoy and good meal tonight. Maybe a bottle of wine. Hey, or bubbly. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chuck coughed and flushed a deep red, but he felt a stronger resolve than anything he’d encountered in the past year. “You know what I’d like, buddy?”

“What?” Bryce asked.

“I’d like to shove that bottle of champagne so far up your ass,” Chuck said, “that when you fart, you blow cork bits and tiny bubbles for a week.”

Hearing himself, the kid had to blink, wondering briefly where that came from. But it was obvious. Casey may be dead, but his ghost certainly knew how to unload both barrels from time to time.

“I deserved that, I guess,” Bryce said at length. “Still, I’m extending the olive branch, and the Chuck I used to know would be the kind of man to take it. Let’s be friends again.”

“No way, Bryce.” Chuck put a hand out in case Bryce had any thoughts of trying to touch him. “No way do I want to be your fake friend ever again.”

Bryce’s gaze stayed absolutely level on the kid’s face, his features perfectly mirroring the stubbornness on Chuck’s. After a moment spent chewing on his bottom lip, Bryce nodded at him. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“You caught me, okay? You always were the smarter of the two of us.” Bryce lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t come here to be your friend.”

“Good – we’re finally in agreement. Then get out.”

“Come on, Chuck. I came here to be more than that,” Bryce persisted, strolling in to stand directly in front of him now.

“More?”

“Admit it. You still have feelings for me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Forget dinner,” Bryce suggested, and he reached out to slide his knuckles lightly down the center of Chuck’s chest. “Come back to my hotel.”

Chuck grabbed Bryce’s hand and hastily gave it back to him. “You still don’t listen, do you?”

“Maybe this will help.”

To Chuck’s utter surprise, Bryce grabbed his arm, pulling him close. Chuck stumbled into the other man and immediately tried to backpedal away, but Bryce latched onto his hips and kept him near. A warm mouth sealed his shut with a forceful press of lips.

All of Chuck’s thoughts just stopped in their tracks, except for one concrete, terrible realization: Bryce Larkin was kissing him, tongue already pressing in. And holy hell it was worse than any single one of his nightmares and nothing like the long, drawn-out swell of heat that Casey used to give him. Those kisses were enough to make forget his own middle name while his brain floated –

Reality all but bitch slapped the thought to a streaking halt. It happened about the time Bryce had the nerve to bite his bottom lip, suck it into his mouth. At the same time, a cool hand slid over his ribcage, tugging him uncomfortably closer. Chuck’s stomach twisted inside out. This was Bryce kissing him –

Somehow, Chuck’s stunned-stupid reflexes finally woke up. Bringing up his hands, he took hold of Bryce’s shoulders and pushed as hard as he could. Bryce went flying backwards. For a second, Chuck thought he would hear him hit the ground, and he couldn’t bring himself to care if he hurt him. He was more concerned about knocking over his latest project than sending Bryce Larkin spilling over on his ass.

“You little son of a bitch,” Chuck panted, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “What the hell -”

“You always were too stubborn for your own good,” Bryce conceded with a sigh. Normally, hearing a tiny warning edge to someone’s voice drove the kid backwards, but he could only stare as Bryce automatically brushed off his gray vest. Not wavering, he then reached inside it for something. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but I guess you made the decision for me, Chuck.”

“Be like this? What are you talking about?” Chuck asked, stepping away since Bryce didn’t. It wasn’t his imagination that Bryce’s eyes had changed. There was something unsafe about them, crouched there underneath the thin layer of disingenuous friendliness. “You know what? On second thought, why don’t you just leave before -”

“Hey, Chuckster, you in there, bro?” Devon called from outside. “I forgot my vial kit, and I wanted to warn you that the buggy I saw earlier is parked in the street again.”

Instantly, both Chuck and Bryce jolted. Bryce, after backing away to put a safe distance between them, rested an elbow on one wing brace, as if the other man had been engaged in idle chit-chat about the machine. As if he wasn’t holding Chuck while coercing a wet kiss on him, sliding his tongue too deeply, daring to touch him.

“Chuck? I think it’s the same one that the – oh.” It took only a few seconds longer for Devon to stride through the paddock door, his eyes finding the owner of the buggy standing in the aisle about fifteen paces away. He pulled up short. “And I guess I was right about that. It looks like you two have met.”

“Ah, hello,” Bryce said immediately, coming forward with his hand extended. “Chuck, I should introduce myself to your -?”

“I’m the landlord,” Devon answered carefully. He assessed Bryce for another second or two before putting on a polite smile. It didn’t seem to be his usual full force one this time, and Chuck could sense a hesitation behind it. “Dr. Devon Woodcomb. I’m also the Chuckster’s friend.”

“Devon. Good to meet a fellow friend of my buddy’s.” Bryce glanced between Devon and Chuck, his cheerful mask not slipping an inch. He didn’t look like the man who just a minute before seemed poised to threaten him. “Chuck and I were roommates back in school. I’m in town on some business, so I thought I’d drop by and see what my old chum was up to. Catch up on our lives, maybe. It’s been far too long, hasn’t it, Chuck?”

That weasel, the kid thought, remaining quiet. He’s going to act as if none of this happened.

“Chuck never mentioned an old roommate,” Devon said.

“I can see that hasn’t changed,” Bryce said, his grin broadening for Devon’s benefit. “That’s the famous Chuck we all loved. He was always closed mouth about ... certain aspects of his life.”

If only he knew.

“The kid’s prerogative, I always figured.” Devon’s eyes cut over to Chuck. “Everything okay?”

“Um, sure, sure.” Chuck mustered up an apologetic smile, but it felt like more of a grimace. “I was just explaining to Bryce that I won’t be able to go out to dinner with him tonight.”

“Oh?” Devon’s face screwed up in a curious frown. “You sure?”

“No, really, I’m fine here -”

“Hey, now that’s an idea. Maybe you can help me convince him,” Bryce said. To Chuck’s surprise, his ex-friend grabbed his arm, fingers digging in. “Just for a few hours. You should get out of this ... dirty barn for a while. Stuffy, isn’t it? It would do you some good, Chuck.”

Chuck recoiled. His lips were still stinging with the stolen kiss. “It’s not as bad as it seems ... and I have some things I need to –”

“All right, enough,” Devon remarked, exchanging a look with Chuck before turning to Bryce. “I think what my bro here is trying to say is that he’s not interested in going to dinner with you tonight.” He put down his satchel and folded his arms over his jacket. “I don’t know what happened between you two, man, and to be truthful, it’s none of my business. But I know the kid well enough by now to recognize when he doesn’t want someone around.”

Chuck closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. On one hand, it had been a long while since he had someone watching his back, and it felt pretty damn good. On the other, he shouldn’t have underestimated Devon’s ability to pick up on the sketchy beginnings of a panic attack. This was what he got for living with a doctor. “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to say, but my friend is being ... persistent.”

“Not a problem, bro,” Devon said. When Chuck opened his eyes, he saw that his landlord and ex-friend were now engaged in glaring match. “Need me to get rid of him?”

Chuck couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh at that. “I can handle it, Devon,” he tried to assure the blond doctor. “Bryce was just leaving right now. It was only a small disagreement ... about the past.”

“That’s right,” Bryce said coolly.

“And Bryce has decided to just drop it, now that we have it all worked out.” Like hell they did. Chuck still wanted to spit at the taste of Bryce’s tongue wrapped around his. What made him think he could get away with that?

When Chuck looked over at his ex-friend, he could see a battle taking place as he weighed his options. Whatever was going on, common sense won out over the inexplicable need to get him alone somewhere. “It wouldn’t be the first time my friend and I have had an amicable debate,” Bryce said, “and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“Good.” Devon nodded towards the paddock door. “Then at least we can all agree that the gentleman can show himself out.”

“Gentleman, heh,” Chuck muttered to himself. “Now that’s a stretch.”

Bryce ignored the remark and tipped his hat at Devon. With one more hard look at Chuck, he dropped out of the side door as silently as he had arrived. Something told him that wasn’t the last of Bryce Larkin.

Before the door had even closed, Devon turned to him. The protective big brother look faded away, replaced with one more stern. “Wish you’d tell me about that, bro.”

“Tell you ... what?”

“Man, don’t take this the wrong way, but I hate it when you play dumb with me.”

“Uh, seriously, this is just me.” Chuck mustered up an innocent smile. “Not as smart as you may -”

“Save it, bro,” Devon said, holding up a hand. “I have to admit it was a big relief to see those panic attacks of yours becoming fewer and farther between over the past few months -”

“What p-panic attacks?” Chuck asked, leaning his backside on the workbench. If he was being honest, his knees had turned jittery, and the last thing he needed was Devon to pick up on that little move. “I – I just have weird reflexes.”

Devon didn’t quite look convinced. “Up until now, I thought you were getting better. Thought it was a positive sign since I only saw one episode in the past month.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Chuck asked, offended.

“I am a doctor, Chuckster,” Devon said, “and I only did it because I was worried. Hey, look at it this way, I thought maybe being here was helping you.”

“It is, okay?”

“Yeah?” Devon scoffed. “Guess it only took one face from your past to stir it up.”

Chuck massaged his shoulder and winced, determined not to give into it. In some part of his mind, he knew that wasn’t possible, he knew the walls weren’t closing in, but every time he blinked, he could feel the oxygen leaving through every crevice.

“I’m fine. Really, Devon. Thanks ... thanks for helping out with my roommate and all, but I think you have real patients waiting for you.”

Devon patted him on the arm and picked up the satchel. “Be back in a few hours, bro. Who knows? Maybe you’ll want to talk then. Might help, huh, big guy?”

“Sounds ... like a blast,” Chuck said, ignoring the spike in his stomach at the thought. “See you.”

The instant Devon disappeared out the doorway, Chuck sagged against a post. The sickening anger and regret swelled up so fast and hard that he had to find something to hang onto. Nothing like a good panic attack to remind him his life sucked. Why did Bryce have to show up here? Why had fate sent a reporter to his home, butting into his life?

He couldn’t think about it. He wasn’t supposed to be here any longer. If Casey was meeting up with him, he would’ve found Beaufort four months ago, not leaving him to rot while he waited.

His movements eerily calm, Chuck turned and studied the flying machine. But it only took another moment or two before his hands began to shake again. No way to stop them, he picked up a burlap sack and began emptying everything he could grab from his tool bench into it.

It hurt to finally face the truth. It hurt a whole hell of a lot, actually, to finally accept that Casey had truly dumped him or was dead and either way, he wasn’t coming here. Men looking for him were.

He continued to mechanically fill the bag until he heard a screech of fabric giving way. Every last tool, screw, and bolt fell out and landed in a heap on the dirt floor. The bottom fell out, just like everything else, proving God did have a sense of humor after all.

His head throbbing, Chuck sank to the floor, resting his spine against one leg of the bench. He stared at the machine, at the project he had taken farther than any other time while he waited, building it on the outside while his insides remained frozen.

Chuck couldn’t ignore it any longer. Lowering his head, he scrubbed a hand over his cheeks and closed his eyes. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against his knee. “You are an idiot, you know that?”

The damage was done. In the silence of the barn, away from the people in their wagons, storekeepers and the thrum of everyday life, his breath rasped and choked as he gave into the ache.

When he packed up and left this time, it would be different. It meant he was finally letting go of the last scrap of hope.

-x-

Over the past hour, after the world stopped tipping sideways and he could fill his lungs again, Chuck had managed to pack up almost everything he’d need to take with him.

Okay, admittedly, ‘need’ was relative in these circumstances. Honestly, he really didn’t need the rudder mechanism from the back of the flying machine, but the housing he had designed was one of his late night epiphanies, and the kid wasn’t willing to just leave it.

“A little more .... Ah, that’s it.” One more thing to cross off his list, Chuck thought. Flat on his back, he peered up at the bottom of the frame and pushed the damp hair off his forehead. Now all he had to do was scooch out from under the plane again and head up to his room to pack his bags. He hated the idea of writing a note to Devon, but how could the doctor understand that Chuck needed to get away? Maybe he could borrow a page from the letter he left for Sabine.

Someday, he really had to break this nasty habit of ditching and running every time a spook from his past jumped from the shadows.

Chuck pushed away the thought and turned the rudder’s housing around in his hand before placing it on a cloth. The last time I’ll be here like this, he realized, swallowing the hot lump that suddenly jumped in his throat.

Last time.

Because here he was, running away. Again.

Chuck’s fingers paused as he gathered up the loose tools. Boston was the last time. Kiowa was the last time. Now here, Beaufort was supposed to be the one-and-only-until-I-die last time. Where exactly was he going to run to?

What am I doing?

“Maybe Devon’s right,” he said, letting his shoulders sink into the ground. “This ... isn’t a life.” The only difference between dying and his current existence was his body not being stuck in the dry earth. Chuck shook his head at how jumpy he had become. He was in a city now, people lots of people. No one would be able to get to him -

He wasn’t even sure he heard the door creak open to the left of his sprawled out body, given shifting around in the dirt seemed to make a bit of noise. But he turned his head nonetheless, curious as to if it was his imagination, or was someone entering through the unlocked doorway. Too early to be Devon, and besides, the man had a habit of announcing his arrival from the yard, knowing Chuck’s tendency to be startled.

“Is ... someone there?” Chuck asked, his eyes tracking along the dirt floor. The view from the ground under the flying machine only gave him about a two foot opening of space to peer through, like watching the world from a tunnel. “Hello?”

A pair of boots came into his line of sight. Chuck sucked in a breath and licked his lips, which were suddenly as dry as the Mojave. His brain quickly categorized what he had at his disposal. Not much. Half naked, no gun, and pressed against the ground wasn’t exactly an advantage. Still, slanting a look to the side, Chuck swept a hand out and grabbed the wrench. You know who this is.

“Well, I have to give you points for tenacity, Bryce,” Chuck managed, “but I’m not going with you. Anywhere. And if you try to kiss me again, I will punch you. A word of advice: when you get back to Atlanta, you need to look up the meaning of the word ‘fuck off’ sometime. Oh, wait. That was two words.”

There was a long pause before he heard a throat clear. “And you needed to find a different place to run. Couldn’t find a barn cooler than Hell to hide in?”

“Holy mother of – what?” Chuck breathed. Reality inserted itself past the shock. Staring over at the dingy boots caked with dirt, Chuck’s expression went absolutely blank, almost glassy.

Not Bryce.

-x- End Chapter One Where the Road Ends-x-


	2. Chapter Two

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Two

-x-

Chuck didn’t need to hear that voice twice. It was stuck far back in his brain, and between his dreams at night and wandering thoughts in the day, he had heard it plenty in the past few months. The murky vocalizations, however, were something he could handle since they never manifested themselves further than making him jolt awake and bathed in sweat a few times a week.

This wasn’t just a voice. But no way could it be real.

Just as though someone could hear his thoughts, the boots scuffed in the dirt, approaching a step or two. Paused.

“Oh, this is so not good,” Chuck mumbled, trying to pull himself into a smaller ball. “You’re not just hearing things, anymore. You’re seeing things ....”

Now within earshot, the ghost in black boots abruptly shuffled forward.

Shit shit shit. Faced with a quietly tenacious apparition, Chuck believed there wasn’t much of a choice but to look it in the eyes.

If it had them.

First step, he had to get out from under the plane. As his body began to take orders, the kid’s back surged off the ground -

And the top of his head collided solidly with the rudder’s brace, the one that had nearly decapitated him earlier when Bryce gave him an unwanted surprise. White sparks scattered across his vision. “Ow! Not again! Darn, I have to stop doing that!”

No time for theatrics. Chuck shook it off and kept clambering away, stumbling to his feet. He got up just in time to crash backwards into the burlap sack loaded down with his tools.

Somehow, he was able to regain his balance and stay on his feet. Maneuvering himself between the extended wings and the ghost, the kid backed up until he felt it was safe to look. Even in his dazed state and the dimness of the barn, Chuck knew it would be gone if he could only confront his demons once and for all.

The hard-muscled demon squinted over at him. “Jesus. Christ.”

Under normal conditions, those aqua eyes would have glinted with humor or lust, maybe stirred by Chuck’s perspiration-covered stretch of bare torso, but as the man looked at him, there was nothing but relief and a quiet euphoria in his expression.

These were definitely not normal circumstances.

“If you knock yourself out,” the ghost of John Casey said, “you’re not gonna be able to do anything I have planned for you later, kid.”

“Wh-what?” Chuck heard himself croak. “Please no please no please no ....” As a rule, he didn’t drink, but at this moment, he wished he did. At least the booze would provide a logical explanation for blurring his vision.

Chuck shook his head to clear it and decided to settle this once and for all. Blindly reaching into the burlap bag, he clutched the first thing he got his fingers on – his trusty hammer.

Here goes. He whipped it as hard as he could at the hallucination. End over end it went -

The man’s eyes widened. “Son of a –”

Well, he had to give him that much credit. The ghost-man had survival instincts. A millisecond after Chuck let go, Casey caught it in his fist.

Chuck blinked. “Oh my God.”

It didn’t seem to faze the man standing on the other side of the flying machine. “Looks like your aim has improved considerably, princess,” Casey said, slanting a look at the hammer before shifting his eyes to the kid. The relief from a moment ago faded, replaced by something akin to annoyance. “First time you took a shot at my head when I came through your door, the bullet missed by a country mile.”

“Casey?” Chuck whispered, his voice rising as he found himself backing away. “How –what are you - how? How?”

Casey frowned at him and moved deeper into the barn, eying the canvas wings that separated him from the kid. “To be honest,” he muttered, “I was hoping we could get right past this part of the reunion.”

“Past it?! You’re – you’re supposed to be dead!”

The not-so-dead man lifted a shoulder. “Well, I went through hell and back to get here, brown eyes,” he said, “and maybe that counts for something.” He remained silent for a moment, staring before he rubbed a hand over his stubble. It took Chuck a second to realize his formerly deceased lover did look like a man who had visited the unholy place. Exhaustion was right under the surface. “Have to say, after all that, a hammer to the head wasn’t the greeting I was hoping for. Wasn’t kidding about your aim, though, cupcake.”

When Chuck slid back another pace, his heel knocked against a shovel. Pain woke him up, forcing his consciousness to feel it, slipping inch by slippery inch into his limbs and chest. “This ... this isn’t helping. How are you here ... you’re alive!?”

One of Casey’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t look so excited, pancake.”

“You don’t get it,” Chuck said, reaching behind his back to grope for the shovel’s handle. Whatever he could find to help steady his legs. “The only logical reason you didn’t come back was because you’re dead!”

“Kid ... it’s me.”

“But it ... can’t be.” His voice wavering, Chuck swallowed, hesitating before he said, “Four months ... seventeen days.”

Casey made a rough noise in his throat. “It was a long time,” he agreed, and he slid the same tall hat Chuck remembered off his head, wiped a sleeve over his brow. “It’s over now, kid.”

“Long time?! That’s how long I thought you were dead!”

“Chuck.” Casey stared at him intently before looking around the workshop. When he turned back again, he sighed and took another step closer. “If I had a way to tell you, I would’ve done it.”

Did Casey not understand? This was the man he had chosen to love. He’d hoped to build a life here, he had waited, and he had finally accepted that Liam got to him somehow. No man would do this to another.

“You – you utter bastard for coming back here – like it was nothing!”

“Ah, hell.” Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a few more curses, thankfully in Gaelic because Chuck was already beyond pissed and hearing that he was being a petty ass would only add fury to the fire. Funny that anger was the emotion hurtling to the top of the heap, but Chuck went with it.

“That’s all you have to say? Not – not, hey, Chuck, I’m really sorry for letting you think my body was rotting in a crevice between two rocks, maybe being snacked on by hungry wolves, but, more important things came up that I had to take care of first!”

“Nothing’s ever going to be easy with you, is it, Bartowski.”

“Oh my God.” Chuck walked around the tail in the opposite direction Casey was approaching. His entire face burned. “To hell with you,” he managed, though each word reverberated with a painful echo through his head. “You heard me. You can just go straight to hell for what you did.”

Casey grunted, and Chuck was mildly surprised he could still translate the noise. Exasperation, with a hint of ‘anyone else would be sucking dirt for spitting that out, but I’ll humor you, button.’ He began to circle around the machine’s body, towards the other side of the tail, eyes scorching a hole through Chuck. “If I didn’t know better, kid, I’d say you’re trying to get away from me.”

“Get away? Ironic, isn’t it, John, considering how long you spent getting away from me! Ah, darn it,” Chuck added in a mumble, backing into a crate and having to quickly veer to the side. Now was not the time, but he should’ve taken a little more care in keeping the workshop tidy. “You drugged me! You left me on a train!”

“I had my reasons.” Casey glanced around the room, obviously assessing exit strategies that Chuck would dare to take – only the paddock door seemed viable - and he continued in that menacing prowl around the tail. “Hold still.”

Uh-oh. Stalking bear mode, Chuck thought. “Reasons? You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You are going to listen to me, kid.”

“The – the letter you left me! You told me a week.” Chuck dodged to the left, looking down the side of the flying machine, his stomach spiking as Casey to continue to round on him. “I was the idiot – for trusting you.”

“Don’t even think of taking another step,” Casey said, stabbing a finger at him as he strode past the tip. “Stay right there, dammit.”

Chuck nearly yelped when Casey’s boots sped up. Since the kid would bet a silver dollar that if he turned for the door and ran, Casey would beat him to it, there was nowhere to go but in a giant circle around the flying machine.

So around they went.

“Me?” Chuck sputtered. “You stay there!”

“Yeah, whatever you say.”

He never listened. Chuck silently cursed himself for taking his boots off earlier. His bare feet padding along backwards didn’t sound half as ominous as the larger man’s boots scuffing the hard-packed dirt. And still bare-chested, wearing only his worn jeans, dirty, slung low on his hips, Chuck figured he had to look a sight.

“I’m, ah, pretty busy here, so I think you should leave.”

“Like hell. Not until you hear me out,” Casey said gruffly and darted a look down the kid’s body, then lower to Chuck’s feet. “Are you still walking, Bartowski?”

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you –”

“Yeah?” Pushing down the canvas braced over a wing, Casey glared over it at him and kept coming. “Who was that, anyway?”

“Who - what?” Chuck nearly stopped in his tracks until he saw Casey catch up by two long strides. “You were spying on me?”

“Yeah, and it looked pretty cozy.”

“It wasn’t. You can trust me on that,” Chuck said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Casey grunted: in your dreams, princess.

Chuck blinked at the audacity. “You’re not serious. You still think you have special privileges or something?”

“What? Did I get my card revoked?”

“You – gah. How could you just leave me like that? I woke up – and you were gone!”

“Are you gonna hold still?”

Chuck just glowered and kept walking. Yes, he was getting dizzy going in a big circle around the machine’s perimeter, but staying still would get him in more trouble. “I’m capable of making my own decisions, you giant ass.”

“Not when they’re going to get us both killed.” Casey scoffed. “Your father. Rudy. They were going to come back. And you weren’t going to leave the farm.

“So in your infinite wisdom, you drugged me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” John Casey’s arms, all this time still remaining loosely bent at his sides, suddenly tightened. Fists formed. Giant fists, Chuck reminded himself. Crap, his thought processes were not helping. “I did it to save your damn life. The life you wanted to keep – away from your father and that – that thing in your head.”

“Oh, all that for me, huh?” Chuck scowled. The feeling of being chastised like a kid rankled deep. “You should’ve told me what you were planning. We should’ve talked about it.”

“I will climb over this plane to get you, cupcake,” Casey said, looking well on his way to being done with the game of cat and mouse, “and you’re not gonna like the way I do it.”

“Really. I think it’s fairly obvious, but the only part of the flying machine designed to hold your weight is the center of gravity where the wings and the horizontal stabilizer intersect.” Chuck’s eyes drifted up and down over the other man’s six foot plus frame. “And even that’s iffy. So if you try to climb over it, I – I’m not going to be very happy.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Casey ground out. Oh, no. He might’ve sped up a little. “Hold the fuck still.”

Chuck kept rounding backwards, feet dragging in the dirt, deliberately swept his eyes over the machine’s delicately stretched wing struts. “No climbing. Answer the question.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care! What, how, why. Take your pick!”

“I think it’s fairly obvious,” Casey said, throwing his own words back at him, though his came with a threatening squinch. “I made an executive decision. One to keep you safe and out of harm’s way.”

“I can do as I please, it’s my life,” Chuck argued.

“Not if it means putting yourself in danger.”

That didn’t make him feel better. Chuck held out his hands to the sides and slightly behind him, feeling his way. One trip up was all it would take, and the kid wasn’t ready to have arms he knew to be strong and hard - yet ... warm and protective - holding him. So he moved, glad for the machine, which separated at least by a dozen paces Casey’s body from his involuntary reaction to him.

“You went back to Liam,” Chuck said, bolting sideways.

“Yes, that’s right. Figured it out all on your own, didn’t you, pancake. Easy enough, though, I suppose. Now, I ordered you to hold the fuck still.”

“Go to hell,” Chuck spat back at him. “Did you ..?” God, he couldn’t even say it.

No surprise. Casey could. “Kill him?”

“Yes. That.” Chuck turned another corner. “Well, did you?”

“No.”

“Why ... not?” The kid blanched when he heard his own voice asking the question. Wanting a man dead was the very thing that put black on a soul, but the idea of Liam still looking for them made him positively frozen inside. “I – thought you said that was the only way ....”

“Didn’t work out the way I planned,” Casey replied quietly, his jaw stiffening at the admission. Even now, he had no idea how intimidating he could be. His heavy holster, his big boots and dusty hat he had shoved back on his head all reminded Chuck of the outlaw who had showed up on his doorstep eons ago with a bullet hole in his shoulder. “You done with this game?”

“I am. You can – just leave, okay?” The brave words lost their effect when his hip smacked on the nose tip and he staggered back. His arms flailed, fingers grabbing something soft – the canvas on one of the wings. Instinct had him scrambling away. My God, the hours he had spent meticulously attaching it to the frame? “Oh, no – not that not that – please no –” The kid lurched.

Casey, seeing the opening, simply side-stepped and dove under the wing. And while Chuck’s bare feet scrabbled against the floor, the larger man popped up on the other side, suddenly there standing over him. That solved the problem of how to end the stand-off, Chuck supposed, when Casey shoved him backwards. Not too gently, either.

“Hey! Watch it!” Chuck stumbled toward the wall and his wooden workbench. Unfortunately, the height of it meant it jammed into the center of his backside, so he jolted his hips forward, cringing at his stupidity. His arms flew back, too late to soften his fall, and they landed in a clatter of loose tools and bolts, giving him no way to escape. “What the – hell – what are you doing -”

The words came out as a gasp even as Casey, eyes never leaving Chuck’s face, moved to fill the space between them. Chuck grappled for something, anything, trying to dodge to the side to get away. But Casey advanced on him like a shaggy wolf, his face implacable and clean of all emotions but one.

It wasn’t the one Chuck would’ve chosen, especially to be in the bullseye of it.

“Oh, crap.” Chuck tried to duck in the other direction, but he’d fallen and his bare back was sprawled a bit awkwardly over the workbench. His hand slipped on something round and he lost purchase. To make matters worse, he pushed up again and Casey was now standing boot to foot, looming over him.

“Fuck me runnin’, muffin,” Casey muttered. “Still can be an idiot without trying too damn hard, can’t you?”

“Not your muffin – or any other baked good, for that matter.”

“Easy, pancake.”

“Okay, that’s just asking for it ....” Chuck saw Casey’s hands coming to grab him. By the time he touched his arm, the kid reacted aimlessly, kicking out. It was a lucky hit, he’d be sure of that later, but it was a hit nonetheless. His foot connected with Casey’s knee. He didn’t want to hurt him, not that Chuck thought he could, it was just that he needed to get away. Why was Casey here now?

The kick slowed Casey’s forward momentum. To be honest, Chuck thought he saw something like shock cross his face just for a flash before steely determination set in. Maybe that was the opening he needed. So he pushed past the confusion, and gasping at being face to face with a man he had given up for dead, Chuck shoved himself up. He turned to take off running, not caring what direction, just to get thinking space between them.

He got half a step before he felt something wide and heavy – two things wide and heavy - wrap around his middle. Casey grabbed him with a vise-like grip, his forearms digging into the kid’s waist, hard, and half spun Chuck back to face him.

“Ow ... ow.” Not that it hurt, but Chuck winced, squirming in his arms. He already knew how useless that would be when Casey set his mind to it, but it felt good to let him know he didn’t appreciate being forced up against his big body. Even though everything about him felt solid and real, and the contact against his bare chest seared through his mind down to his lower belly. Didn’t his body know what angry meant? His only choice was to look away, away from those knowing blue eyes.

“Easy, kid,” Casey murmured. Before Chuck could swing his head back, Casey stepped in close, close enough to bury his lips in Chuck’s dark curls. What was he doing? The kid heard him pause to breathe in, like he needed to conjure up a memory of something. A scent or a feel, though Chuck couldn’t imagine why since he had to reek with sweat. His lover didn’t seem to mind, though, and the muscled chest molded to his expanded, let it out slow. “Glad one part of you recognizes me,” Casey said. “You’re trembling, kid.”

“I – I am not.” Chuck kept his eyes averted, anything to slip some type of connection his body had unwillingly made. “Do you have to be such a giant jerk? Back up. We already know you don’t fight fair.”

“Not until I know you’re listening.” A large, warm hand slid up the center of the kid’s back, gentle. At Chuck’s jolt, the weight of Casey’s upper body and abdomen pressed a bit harder against him. “Not letting go, either.”

In the back of his mind, Chuck knew his reaction was juvenile, but he wheeled back and slugged him in the gut. Not the usual clumsy punch he threw, either. Chuck almost gawped in awe of himself when he heard Casey suck in a lungful of air. Who knew his hand could do that?

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Casey asked when he could. “You been saving that up for me?”

Dragging his head up, the kid leveled his eyes to glare at him. Damn, it hurt. Damn him for just showing up here like no time had passed. “Let. Me. Go,” Chuck said bluntly, and his own jaw tightened as stubbornly as the man in front of him. “If you don’t –”

“What?” Casey squinted down at him, waiting.

“Um.” Chuck waffled. “I’ll scream really loud, okay?”

“Any other techniques I should know about?”

Crap.

Well, he did ask.

The kid swung his arm backwards, ready to take another swing at him. Not to be surprised again by that move, Casey had had enough. He seized both of Chuck’s hands and used his weight to pin him, holding his thighs down under the pressure of his own, his long torso doing the rest of the work. Wriggling and squirming became just about impossible, but Casey waited him out until Chuck drew that conclusion on his own.

“Is your only leverage the fact that you’re bigger than me?” Chuck asked, signaling he was done struggling by going lax, letting the tension ebb out of his lean body.

“How about the leverage of being patient when I need to be?”

“Since when? Because I didn’t know –”

“Shut. Up.”

“Told you,” Chuck grumbled.

Giving Chuck that one, Casey blew a breath at himself. The kid felt only a minute shift against his body while the other man gathered his thoughts. “Guess what, pancake. I can stay here like this all night if I need to. Holding you down. How long can you go without looking at me?”

Chuck tried to quell the surge of annoyance. Casey did have a point, however. The man could outstare an owl with no eyelids if he set his mind to it.

“Kid. Look at me,” Casey said again, and this time his voice dropped to that deeper, rumbly register. “Not going anywhere until you do. Both of us.”

He shouldn’t do it. That was how he got in this mess in the first place. Tampering with things he shouldn’t have looked at. Or touched. There didn’t seem to be a good place in the room to stare, not with Casey directly in front of him and holding him still. Forget fighting him, too, Chuck thought. That had a tendency to just get embarrassing for one of them.

So with the presence of his long dead lover – emphasis on dead, not lover, dammit - still making his head swim, Chuck tipped his head and forced himself to meet Casey’s eyes. The sudden proximity gave the kid a view into a swirling ocean of blue, brilliant even in the waning light. “There. That’s what you wanted, right?” Chuck flung out. “Am I supposed to forgive you now? Oh, wait. You were always more into non-verbal forgiveness.” He added a scoffing sound, roughly translated to ‘don’t you even think about it, or I will lop it off.’

“Non-verbal, huh?” Casey momentarily looked intrigued before clamping down tighter on Chuck’s wrists. “I have to say, kid, I pictured a dozen ways this could go, but none of them involved getting sucker punched by someone I could squash like a bug without too much trouble at all.”

“Comforting. Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Chuck asked, fighting the urge not to try and take his hands back. “Maybe you can answer a question for me. Do you mind telling me where in the hell you’ve been?”

“San Francisco.”

“What?” He answered? Just like that? Chuck watched his face for any other clues, his eyes blowing wide. “Why?”

“Seattle, Phoenix ... Houston,” Casey went on, bending his face closer. “Portland. Las Vegas. Might as well be hell, that one.”

“I – what? Anywhere else?” In so few words, Chuck’s world was going tilt. How could Casey just stand there? All those places – and not here. With him? Chuck had never felt so used in his life. “My God! So far, it sounds like you’ve had quite the gallivanting vacation. Guess you just had some time to burn, is that it? Decided to go off and see the sights?”

“Detroit, Boston, New York.” Casey shrugged. “Ended up in Chicago.”

Chuck swiveled his head to the side, his fists clinched. Air was getting harder to find, like the room had filled with churning water. It had nothing to do with the powerful arm that moved to wrap around his waist, holding him back against him. “You didn’t even send me a telegram,” Chuck said, rasping as he tried to push away from the solid flesh. “Not a letter – nothing!”

“Chuck –”

“Oh, God.” Chuck briefly squeezed his eyes shut, halting himself from doing something he would regret. Everything was unraveling inside him. “All this time I waited here for you,” he said, praying his damn voice would stop shaking. “Thinking you would be back ... maybe there was a chance you were lost ... or – hell, I don’t know. Anything but ....” Utter Cold Abandonment.

Casey must’ve really wanted him to shut up, because he gave Chuck a look with the intention solely to intimidate him into silence. “Kid, if you would just –”

“How – how could you ignore everything I said in my letter?” Chuck wanted to throw up his hands, if only he could. “Was it because I came up with something for once? That it was my plan to get away? Maybe it didn’t meet the ‘outlaw code of standards’ for get-aways. Well, I’m sorry, but I’m kinda new at this!”

“It had nothing to do -”

“You read what I told you – where you could find me – and you just leave me wondering?” Before Chuck could really process that again for the thousandth time, he straightened, surprised himself by pulling a hand free, and reached into his pocket. “Here. I have something for you.”

“Yeah? What? ‘Cause so far -”

“Take it.”

Casey looked down to Chuck’s hand before dragging his eyes up. He studied him, his expression moving between irritation and something else. “The ... pocket watch. You’ve ... been carrying it up until now?”

“Well, you got that part right at least,” Chuck said, slapping it into his hand. “Up until now, yes. But seeing that you’re finally here, I might as well give it back to you. It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

The pocket watch nearly clattered to the floor, so startled was Casey to have it smacked into his hand. It seemed absurd that a man who never showed an iota of emotion let a few slip by the shield at that moment. Anger and impatience, Chuck expected. But the hurt he saw in his eyes took him off guard.

“I don’t want it back,” Casey said in a fierce grumble. Then, in a move that spooked Chuck at first, his hand gentled on the kid’s neck, his thumb stroking under his ear. “You don’t get it, pancake, do you?”

“Get it? That you made me wonder what had gone wrong? Or ... what was wrong with me?” Chuck jerked his head away from Casey’s hand and suddenly, his throat felt swollen and hot. “All this time. Either ... it was me, as if I was ... dirty or damaged ... or I wondered where the body was buried. If it was buried. If the wolves left enough for the buzzards –”

“... ah, hell –”

“And I finally decided it was best to just hate you for what you did.”

They both felt it. Words like bullets. All of it was a lie, but it felt good to spit them out.

“Hate me, eh?” Instead of pressing in even harder, maybe to squeeze the loathing out of him as Chuck half-expected, Casey glanced down and dropped the kid’s hand. Low voiced, Chuck heard, “Fucking mess.”

Chuck stared after him, but Casey was already striding to the other side of the room, his usual animal-like grace intact. “Thanks for your astute observation,” the kid said. “For once, we can agree on something. Sending me to a random place? You bet. Making me wait here all this time, wondering? Yep, that too. You know, is it just me, or was I wrong about Bryce being the once in a million kind of man who would treat another like this? Because come to think of it, and I know you’ll appreciate the comparison, but you’re more like him than you know.” Chuck stopped there before his throat completely seized up, which it was threatening to do. “N-now if you don’t mind, I’m going to -”

“Your letter was burned before I could read it.”

“- finish picking up here and get on with ... what –” Chuck’s tongue skidded to a brief halt. “Wh-what ... now?”

“Your letter,” Casey repeated. His voice wavered slightly, then he cleared his throat and brought up a hand, rubbing it over the back of his neck where his shirt was now sticking to his nape. “It was burned. I never got to read it.”

“Burn –?” Chuck shifted his gaze up and down Casey’s long body. His hands and knees started shaking, and the rapid sensation of losing his balance swamped him. Slowly, he placed his hands on the workbench to steady his legs. All these months, how had it never occurred to him? Something could’ve happened to the letter? As in, his stunned brain had just informed him Casey never got the message. “Never read it?” Chuck heard himself say. “How?”

Casey’s broad back still faced him, so Chuck only saw a shrug. “It doesn’t matter how. It was ... an accident. Just a stupid thing that happened too fast. Everything was in the fire before we figured out what you had done.”

Chuck continued to stare, every part of him suddenly too warm and vibrating. “John ... I didn’t ....” From behind, his boyfriend was motionless, though his shoulders had stiffened so tight Chuck was afraid he would snap. He could only imagine Casey’s taut mouth, rigid facial muscles. “It’s not possible.”

“Chuck. Don’t.”

“I don’t get it. You were supposed to ... know. You were supposed to come here!” It sounded like the right thing to say, at least, though he was pretty sure it was idiotic. “How ....”

“Well, it got fucked up,” Casey explained. Succinctness was still his thing, apparently.

Chuck’s stomach was in his throat, and he had no idea if it was confusion or a different kind of anger or just a swell of relief. “But – it can’t be that way.” He ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, except the past four months, deep and complicated, had to be wiped from his brain. There was an unavoidable knowledge that once the fog cleared from his head, the world was going to look very different. “I waited at the train station that night. Hours – I don’t know. I lost track of time. I just wanted you back. Safe.”

“I got out safe, okay?” Casey said. “Forget the damn letter. It wasn’t your fault.” He cleared his throat again, looked over at the dust-covered window. “Nobody’s fault.”

He didn’t get it. Nothing went right. Accidents like that weren’t real. The words ‘burned’ and ‘letter’ were still making the kid light-headed.

“All this time ... I blamed you,” Chuck said, letting out a noise between a choked sob and an empty laugh. He brought up his hands to scrub over his face, and that was just another mistake. The grip on the workbench really was the only thing holding him up. Chuck tripped forward, and went down on his hands and knees. His body was one giant tremor, but he wasn’t going to do this now. He shifted backwards in the dirt and sat on the ground, pulled his knees to his chest. “All this time ... it was me.”

“Chuck -”

“Or sometimes ... I thought it was worse,” the kid went on, feeling the black hole sucking him under. “Those first days ... without you in my bed, knowing you were somewhere ... maybe hurting.”

“It was nothing like that.”

“It was my fault.”

“Kid?” Casey finally turned around, looked at him.

“Y-yes.”

“You’re having trouble listening,” his boyfriend told him. “And if you even think of having one of those attacks right now, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

It took everything not to tip his head and give him a rude gesture for his lack of empathy. And when Casey didn’t immediately kick his ass – it was obvious the kid was covered in damp sweat and his breath hitched, well on his way to Panic City - Chuck figured it was Casey’s plan the whole time. Get him angry enough to forget he was supposed to be wallowing in the depths. Gee, thanks, Casey.

The threat triggered Chuck’s sense of reality – he had the thing he wanted, his world would gradually crawl back to normal. For now, he rested his chin on his kneecap and rubbed his eyelids. “All those places, Casey?”

“Yes, and some I probably forgot,” Casey said. Nodded once. “I never stopped looking.”

“But ... how did it happen? The letter ....” Chuck trailed off, completely at a loss. Casey was still too far away across the room to clearly illuminate his features, but the kid could see just enough. Weariness, relief at the end of a journey, and seeing it all made Chuck feel like he could barely lift his head. “When – when did you get back there?”

“I showed up the morning after you left.”

“Oh ... hell.” Another one of those squeaky half-laughs escaped him, nothing comical about it. Chuck put his fingertips on his eyelids to stop the tears threatening to spill, shook his head. “Of course you did.”

“Sabine and Luciana ... they thought I was the search party,” Casey said. “Coming back for you. They figured they needed to get rid of any evidence. I told you, it was quick. And no one knew until after that ... well, by then it was too late.”

Chuck leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. Sitting in the dirt wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t yet trust his legs just yet. “And from that day on ... all this time ..?”

“Like I said, kid. Looking for you. Every damn minute of it.” Casey hesitated, casting his eyes up at the ceiling before swinging his focus down to Chuck. There was a half-smile on his lips, an unexpected expression after all the pain and shit he had to have climbed through to get here. “Four months ... seventeen days.” He touched the pocket of his tan suede vest. “All the time carrying this scrap of paper around with me. The only piece we could salvage from the fire.”

“Scrap?”

Casey pulled it out and let him read it.

“‘Here with me ... as long as we’re together.’ Huh.” Chuck had nothing to add, glad that Casey didn’t point out the way his voice broke. He could only hand the scorched paper back to him.

“Right pretty, I guess. Can only imagine what the rest said.” Casey lifted a brow. “Now you know why I thought I’d get more than a right hook when I showed up tonight?”

“I – I didn’t hurt you, did I? God, I don’t think I could deal with that right now.”

“Nah ... though I have to admit,” Casey said, “if I wasn’t pissed as hell about it, I woulda been impressed. I don’t recall you being able to jab a man quite like that.”

“I can’t believe this,” Chuck mumbled, and he clasped his hands together in front of his face, rested his forehead on them. “How did you find me then? Wait. It was the newspaper, wasn’t it? Of course it was.”

“Not your best angle in the picture, muffin,” Casey said, patting his vest, presumably where the paper was stuffed. “Photograph was a little hard to decipher, but I think I’d be able to pick out the crazy-ass hair in the dead of night.”

Chuck, from his seat on the ground, had to crane his neck in order to shift his dark eyes up to him. He could see the other man was watching him, just a hint of a smile at the unruly mess on top of his head. “And you thought it wasn’t good for anything,” the kid muttered, attempting to smooth his curls down. It was longer than he liked, and he would’ve gotten out this month to get a haircut like Devon had suggested, but there ... was too much to do here. “I didn’t even know he was taking the photograph. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about being an idiosyncrasy.”

“Think of it this way, kid. I wouldn’t have found you if you were even close to normal.”

“Haven’t lost your comforting touch, I see.” Chuck rolled his eyes, and his knuckles tightened and flexed as he tried to channel all of that emotion into his fists and out of his body. No chance of that working. His heart was still kicking his ribcage. “Um, when I can stand up – and I’m not so sure about it, frankly – would you like to try again? Oh, I mean the greeting. Not the whole punching thing.”

Casey chuckled as he dug his hand out of his pocket and pulled out something Chuck couldn’t make out just yet. Not until he came to stand with his calf nearly touching Chuck’s leg did the kid catch the glimmer of gold. The chain?

As soon as it registered, Chuck’s eyes widened. “Is that - ?”

“So you recognize it, eh? You left it for me. I’ve ... been carrying the pocket watch chain around, too. Heh. Have to say, I didn’t expect the watch to be thrown at me, either.” Tipping his head down, Casey cocked an ironic brow for Chuck’s benefit. “Got any other surprises, or is that about it?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Chuck huffed. “I guess it would be no surprise to the present company if I seize up like a rusty bolt and curl up in a ball right now?”

“Nope.”

“So, no more surprises, then.” It was supposed to be a joke, but there was no use in stopping it. Feeling the reaction grip him, Chuck lowered his head between his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. His heart was racing, his hands trembling. He’d like to do something about it, but he felt completely detached from everything but the dirt. Great timing, idiot. The kid wet his lips, spoke directly to the floor. “Glad ... glad you came back to this, too, I suppose?”

“Yeah, thrilled, kid,” Casey said, but kneeling quickly, he slid his hand down the slope of Chuck’s chest, over his taut abs. “Right there, brown eyes.” His voice, almost a murmur, fell lower somehow, wrapping him like velvet. “Feel my hand? Want you to lift it by taking a deep breath.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeesh. Okay.” Chuck moved his forehead to rest solidly on his knee and continued to stare down at his own bare feet. “I’m an idiot ... you can say it. I know you’re thinking it.”

“Yeah, but I came back, didn’t I? What does that make me?”

The kid drew in a breath and glanced over at the small smirk on Casey’s lips. Teasing him already. Forgivable, since the first touch of Casey’s hand, warm on his skin, seemed to pull him out of the place his unexpected arrival had taken him, into a place somewhere between here and there. For a minute, Chuck focused on nothing but his inhalations, and maybe the other hand carding through his hair. “You haven’t lost your charm, I see. Or ... magical powers of persuasion.”

“We’ll see.” When Casey passed his knuckles alongside the kid’s jaw and squeezed the back of his neck, Chuck leaned into his thighs, sinking into the steady reassurance of his body. “You okay?”

“M’ fine.” Chuck waved at what Casey could pass off as a look of concern. “Actually, to be brutally honest, it wasn’t as bad this time.”

Casey gave his head a little shake. “This time?”

“I’d, uh, rather not discuss it now.” Chuck swallowed. An attack had hit him every freaking week, at least, for over four months.

Casey shifted, his knee bumping against Chuck’s legs. His hand slid down, his thumb coursing along the kid’s flat belly to the upper part of his thigh. “You ready to get up and try this again?”

“Well, unless I can find another way to humiliate myself?”

Casey didn’t crack a smile. Maybe it was the sinking revelation that Chuck’s confidence had found new depths while Casey was off being dead somewhere. “Come on, brown eyes.” Climbing to his feet, Casey held out a hand and impatiently motioned for Chuck to take it. “Let’s go. On your feet.”

When Chuck tilted his head back to get a good look at his lover, blue eyes peering down at him, he nodded shakily and took his hand. “Hope you don’t mind dirt,” the kid said, letting Casey pretty much do all the lifting. The brute strength behind the grip was still remarkable. That hadn’t changed. “Oh, and the smell ... because I don’t plan on running from you this time.”

“I don’t plan on letting you.” The grasp on his arm told the kid he meant it.

The second Chuck was back on his feet, bare toes touching a pair of dingy boots, his body instinctively leaned into the familiar solid wall of muscle. It was the closest he and Casey had stood to one another since eternity, not counting the time Chuck socked him in the gut. Which he felt did not count.

Somehow, finally standing next to him, Chuck became so overwhelmed he closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to Casey’s neck. Warm, warm everywhere. “My God ....”

“Does that mean you’re gonna look at me?”

Chuck raised his head, blinked at him. A slow crooked smile crossed his lips, odd considering the gravity of the moment. “I can’t believe it ....” Was he really touching his lover? He filled his nostrils with the man’s musky scent, put his hand on the front of Casey’s shirt, clenched his fist into the rumpled cotton. “Hmm. Yep, you do feel real.”

Casey’s eyes flicked down to Chuck’s lips, back up again. “You wouldn’t even know that yet, brown eyes.”

Chuck cleared his throat. The sound of Casey’s voice, rough, put a tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn’t felt in months. Desire for another human being, totally buried until this second. “And ... no matter what happened, I’m sure we’ll figure it out – oh, hey.”

Because right as Chuck was about to let Casey know it might be a good time to kiss him, he was cut off by two big hands sliding over his jeans, around to his backside. Wasting no time, they cupped both ass cheeks. Hard.

“Ah, your hands are -”

“Yeah, and it’s about damn time, kid.”

“For ..?”

His answer became apparent. The strong grip wasn’t merely intended as a way to get in a quick feel, though he sure as hell did. More than that, once Casey had both hands clamped firmly into Chuck’s jeans, he used the hold to lift the kid off his feet and pull him flush into the hard planes of Casey’s body.

“This,” Casey grumbled, his damp cheek resting on the side of Chuck’s curls, plastered to his temple. “Too long, brown eyes.”

Feeling the abnormal notion of being lifted from the ground, Chuck’s long legs did exactly as Casey must’ve intended them to do. Without thinking, he had wrapped them around Casey’s middle, his thighs clasping the larger man right above his hips, ankles crossed in back.

“Oh. Um, hi there, again.” Chuck started to look away, avoid the intimacy of close eye contact, but Casey nudged his cheek with his nose.

“Still bashful. I like it.”

“And I sort of forgot that you think I’m handily portable when the mood strikes.” Griping about being picked up off his feet didn’t even occur to the kid, however. They were eye to eye, their lips so close, Chuck’s naked chest pressing to Casey’s fully clothed one. But it was Casey’s gaze where all his energy was concentrated, bringing fire into Chuck’s face at that searing look.

“So just standing there is the way you had planned to say hello, princess?”

“Um, this works, too,” Chuck said. Damn, not like he needed the reminder, but Casey was a strong son of a bitch. The kid wasn’t exactly small, but Casey picked him up like he was nothing. Works? Oh, God, he feels good.

“Haven’t started yet,” Casey rumbled. Chuck startled when his ass was squeezed quickly but forcefully. Once he started to open his mouth, Casey’s lips captured his, guiding him hungrily into a kiss. Automatically, as his body heeded the signals, Chuck felt himself lean forward and sink into it. He was surprised at how it could be commanding yet gentle at the same time, keeping control. With minimal well-placed pressure, Casey still knew how to tempt Chuck closer, and the kid brought his hands up to Casey’s shoulders, tugging him until Casey’s shirt was crushed against his own bare chest. Every muscle under that shirt was taut, but Chuck ran his palms down his pecs and then out to his biceps just to be sure.

Yep, those were the familiar rock-hard swells and dips of flesh he remembered. Exploring, digging, massaging, he then smiled against Casey’s lips. Real, every last inch of him.

There was a yearning need there, swirling between them, and the force behind the kiss grew. It was a contradiction, each struggling to get nearer while trying to find air, but he didn’t care. Chuck ignored the dirt streaked over his bare skin, his self-consciousness of being sweat-covered, ignored the fact that there were windows, and with the coming darkness of evening, anyone could peer in to see two men in an uncompromising lip lock. For once, he ignored everything and just gave a little more of himself – gave in to Casey’s demanding mouth, the slow rub of his stomach muscles already dragging over him. It was the first time in a long time that his body lost its tension, the ache in his rangy muscles. He opened up further, letting Casey tease his mouth with -

Okay. Now, that couldn’t be ignored.

Casey’s holster hung a bit further to the side, and didn’t quite have a mind of its own like his cock seemed to have, Chuck recalled. And he recalled that much.

Oh, God. Just that quick, he’d let him, too.

Casey lightly rolled his tongue along the kid’s bottom lip, back and forth, beckoning him to part his lips again. It was insane that he could do that so easily, pinpointed each movement that immediately got a reaction from Chuck. The larger man knew exactly what he was doing – the pressure, coaxing him with his fingers that dug into Chuck’s buttocks, the gentle bite on the hollow of his throat when he didn’t open right away.

The message was received. Stop over-thinking it and let me get you naked. Now.

Bad Idea? Maybe? When Chuck opened his mouth, Casey used his tongue to slide along his, getting a long taste, to gently explore. Or maybe not so bad? Because as soon as he parted his lips for him, the four months of trying to summon the memory of his touch evaporated. And each time he pulled away then dipped in more deeply, Chuck made the same small noises in his throat that he did before, the embarrassing begging sounds that Casey seemed to know how to suck right out of him.

Casey interpreted the encouragement and answered it. Powerful fingers clenched. He grabbed and pulled inward, dragged the kid a few inches over his lower abdomen. Gradually side to side.

Oh, there. At once, Chuck was able to clear up the mystery of the whole holster dilemma, in case there were any lingering doubts. Not that he wasn’t still going to get shot with that thing sometime tonight, he guessed.

Plunging into his mouth, the kiss crept to a territory where it wasn’t gentle any longer, like it was a minute ago. After all the months of waiting and searching, Chuck was swept into the understanding that Casey wanted to claim the kid as his again, and he’d do it here and now if Chuck would let him.

A voice in Chuck’s head whispered something about recklessness and lack of common sense – windows! Unlocked doors! While that warning bounced around in his head, Casey backed him into the workbench, using the leverage it conveniently provided to free up one of his hands. Opportunely, too, because now Casey’s warm palm could stroke down Chuck’s ribcage, at least until it was halted at the waistband of his jeans.

Hell of a hello, John.

Hang on a minute. Here?

The answer was a well-timed grunt of frustration that pretty much said ‘damn straight.’ Giving up on trying to unbutton the jeans at this second, Casey lowered his hand to press down on Chuck’s bulge, his fingers tracing the outline of the curve through the denim. Well, there was no hiding that either, and damn if Chuck didn’t feel a smirk against his lips.

But the man had a point. Being able to lift the crushing sensation that he had carried for months - either his lover had dumped him or was dead - was probably a time to give common sense a dismissive hand wave at best. Later, okay? Not while he sat on a workbench with his thighs wrapped tightly around a man he thought he had lost. So his lips strained for more, hands still clutching at his shoulder blades.

“Good boy,” was the only thing Casey growled into his mouth, another smirk pressing down since he knew Chuck’s dislike of the label. It confirmed he felt the willingness pushing up against him. When the larger man leaned in to better pin him against the workbench, they both ground against one another, and that need washed over the kid. In between hungry kisses, they steered their heads at different angles, moving in and pulling away. It reminded Chuck of an urgent battle, with the outcome already decided. Who would rout who and complete the invasion, who would freely surrender. Hell, Casey was halfway there without even trying.

The long muscular body sculpted to his suddenly shifted back, just a few inches. Casey’s mouth eased the pressure, only giving him light caresses with his tongue, tasting. What was he doing?

It took a second for Chuck to realize he wasn’t the only one dazed by finally holding something he thought he had lost. Casey ran his hand back up Chuck’s torso, bare skin to bare hand, his hand kneading. Familiar with the warm flesh he felt, Casey made a low noise in his chest. Are you real, he seemed to be asking, touching to find the answer.

Satisfied that he was, Casey’s fingers tracked along curves of the kid’s lean muscles in ways that had Chuck needing to shift forward into him again, despite a press of his thighs on either side of Chuck’s hips, holding him down.

“You remember now, don’t you?” Casey asked, breathing in everything that was Chuck.

Chuck closed his eyes and inhaled, though it had more to do with the possessive hand moving lower, encircling his stiff length through the jeans. Casey, translating further acquiescence, drew his lips down to graze the side of Chuck’s neck, licking, while his hand softly stroked him.

“You live here?” Casey asked, his mouth brushing the sensitive spot under the kid’s ear.

“Y-yes.” Chuck swallowed, felt a smile on his damp skin. Oh, yeah. Casey could feel it.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. I’d like to continue this upstairs.” When he lifted his head, there was a curl to one side of Casey’s mouth. Letting go, he steadied the kid and gave him a brief kiss to seal the deal. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be.”

Chuck was hyperaware of the leisurely track his hand took, strolling down his ribcage, lower, making him shy enough to blush. “I’m, ah, good with that. But ... you see there’s this ... thing.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t say but –”

“Um, we should probably talk about one ... teensy detail -”

“I’m gonna hate myself for asking, but what in god’s name could possibly -”

“Chuckster? Good news. The McCandlish baby didn’t need me after all, so I’m back early for supper. For once, eh? Are you – whoa.”

“Uh-oh,” Chuck said, since it seemed fitting. It also proved unnecessary to look over at the barn’s paddock door to know that his fear was realized. Not when the stark look on his lover’s face, the same lover who had to move his hand like Chuck’s crotch suddenly burned him, said it all. Succinctly. And scarily.

“...the hell,” he heard Casey say.

“Um. Devon,” Chuck announced loudly, not daring to look over at him. He felt far too exposed already. Besides, in order to hop off the workbench, he first had to unwind his legs from Casey’s back and get his hands free, and that was taking all the concentration he had. “Hey ... hey, glad to hear about ... what – what was that?”

“The McCandlish baby,” Devon repeated slowly. His eyes darted from the mortified expression on Chuck’s face to the large man standing next to the kid. Nothing mortified about that expression. Casey’s mien leaned more towards the perturbed variety. “Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to interrupt your ....” Not knowing how to finish the thought politely, Devon paused to cough, turned to size up Casey. “I didn’t realize you had a ... guest?”

“Oh, it’s, ah, fine. Really. We were just ....” Molesting each other? Gah. Chuck scratched the back of his head while his brain groped for a better kind of explanation. “Um, getting caught up.”

“Yeah, I see that. Hey.” The young doctor turned to Casey without a smile. “I’m Devon Woodcomb.”

“Sorry. My mistake. Devon, this is John Casey. He’s my, uh ....”

“Friend,” Casey filled in cautiously. There was an awkward moment where he debated the hand Devon extended to him, but Casey finally shook it. Devon’s knuckles cracked. “Mind telling me who you are?”

Devon’s brow went up at the unmistakably cool tone. “I guess that gives us something in common, bro. I’m the Chuckster’s friend, too.”

Chuck, whose eyes were now finely tuned to Casey’s movements, saw the hand casually drop to the holster before Devon could even break the handshake. Reflexes, nothing more than that, the kid told himself. Casey had a habit of resting his hand on the worn leather strap, whether he felt threatened or not. It was simply a peculiar, comforting gesture.

Or maybe he was giving him a tad too much credit. Just as quickly, the kid stepped forward so that he was shielding his landlord and friend from Casey’s wrathful squint.

“Ha, great,” Chuck said, hoping his voice only sounded squeaky to his own ears. “What Devon didn’t tell you is that I’m his, um, tenant and he’s the property owner here. Oh! And he’s a doctor, did he tell you that? Which is why he stopped by to tell me all about the ... um ....”

“The McCandlish baby,” Devon said, venturing a couple of steps closer.

“Oh, sure. Him.”

“Her.” Devon frowned. “But what I really came out here to tell you is that dinner’s ready now – and I know how you get, kid.” He faced Casey to explain, “The Chuckster here gets so wrapped up in his world that some nights I have to drag him into the house to go to bed.”

Casey’s growl could only be heard by Chuck, but it was enough to make him want to wet himself.

“Yep, though once I get him there,” Devon went on sincerely, “sometimes I wonder if that was such a good idea. Kid snores like a steam engine.” The doctor elbowed Chuck, grinning. “Isn’t that right, Chuckster?”

“Uh, wellll,” Chuck began, hoping Casey would either move his fingers from the holster or at least let the kid try to disarm him, “I’m not really –”

“As coy as you’re making out?” Casey kept his thumb tucked in his holster, hand resting on the pouch, and swung around to Devon. “Sounds like a cozy arrangement.”

“Yeah? You should try it sometime.” With one final dazzling smile, Devon turned toward Chuck, quick enough to somehow miss Casey’s eyes narrowing even further. “This has been quite a night for you, bro. I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” Chuck’s eyes widened when he saw Casey had begun to circle around the doctor. His boyfriend only went into beat-down mode when a certain combination of buttons was pressed, but apparently, Devon had hit on all of them at once. “Why ... why is that?”

“I just got to hand it to you, man, for trying to get out of your cocoon.” Devon, looking down to pick up his black bag, didn’t seem to notice he had been reduced to prey. “Never knew you had so many, ah, friends until tonight. My little bro has been keeping secrets.”

“He has, eh?” Casey transferred his gaze from Devon’s face to Chuck. It was sudden enough that Chuck had to jerk back. “Four months. A man could get mighty lonely.”

“Um, I hardly think I had time to -”

“Sure can.” Devon nodded and shoulder-bumped the kid. “All this time it was just the two of us, and bang. Tonight you have, er, friends, all over the place trying to buddy up to you.”

“I do?” God, please make him stop.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe it has something do so with showing off those pecs, eh?”

Chuck’s jaw dropped at his landlord’s implication. He ... knows? Instantly, he looked down at his sweaty chest, seeing nothing worth showing off. “It just got a little hot – or –”

“It did look that way,” Devon agreed, glimpsing from Chuck to Casey and back again.

Casey’s growl said what his temperament never missed the opportunity to say: I really will shoot this guy unless someone starts talking.

“What Devon means is that -”

“My bro here has been a busy boy tonight, that’s all,” Devon finished for him, attempting helpfulness. “Hey, what was the name of the other guy, anyway?” He cast a look at Casey. “Maybe you know him. I would ask if the three of you were in college together but ... no offense, man, but you look like you went straight on to the school of hard knocks, am I right? Anyway, what was it? Oh, I know. Bruce.”

Chuck began making a slicing motion across his neck, hoping Casey didn’t see it.

So of course, Casey slanted a look over. “Bruce?”

Chuck, caught mid-slicing gesture and God he wanted to die right about now, flopped his hand around mid-air before he began to smooth his hair. “I don’t know a Br-Bruce. Are you sure you have the right -”

“Got it.” Devon snapped his fingers. “Bryce. That was it. Your old college roommate.”

“Oh. Hah. Yes.” Chuck forgot all about the irritated looks pointed at Devon and darted a look at Casey’s hand. He did not just unhitch the leather strap holding his gun in its pouch. Did he?

The soft crinkle of worn leather answered that question.

Sure Chuck hated the guy, but did he want Bryce dead? As in ‘enough bullet holes to make his skin look like eyelet’ dead? “That ... Bryce.” Chuck tried to laugh. “I might vaguely remember something like that.”

Casey’s shoulders stiffened, but mercifully, he gave nothing else away. “So ... Bryce is in town?” Sauntering around, he moved into Chuck’s line of sight, met his gaze. “Nice of him to finally join us. I’ve been waiting to meet him for a long time.”

Uh-oh.

x- End Chapter Two Where the Road Ends-x-


	3. Chapter Three

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Three

-x-

“Can I talk to you a minute?” Chuck put his hand on Casey’s arm and gave him a tug. They both knew the kid had no chance of dragging John Casey anywhere he sure as hell didn’t want to go, but Chuck hoped he’d at least take a hint. “Outside? In private?”

Devon exchanged a look between them, still not certain what to think of the larger man who had not only invaded Chuck’s workshop, but seemed to be well underway in pulling off another type of invasion all together.

Oh, God.

Just thinking about it made Chuck cringe while he tried his best not to speculate what was going through Devon’s head. Probably a first, to see any tenant of his wrapped around another man like a snake in the middle of its mating ritual.

Why did he have to burst in right then?

Rotten luck, that’s why.

When the kid glimpsed over at his landlord before his eyes settled on Casey, he could understand Devon’s hesitation. Hadn’t Chuck felt the same way the first time he met the man? To say Casey was rough around the edges, not quite fitting in with Beaufort’s genteel Southern garb, was a bit of an understatement. The boots, leather vest, heavy holster and blue jeans said he was a stranger in town. The implacable line of his jaw said he didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought about him. Or anything else, for that matter.

“Are you sure, bro?” Devon asked and he leaned over to whisper in Chuck’s ear, “He doesn’t look, well, on the up and up. You want to be alone with him?”

“Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about.” Except how fast he’d lose his pants after that greeting. But honestly, he’d give his collection of dime store novels to be alone with him. “We’ll be right out here,” Chuck assured Devon, tugging on Casey’s sleeve again. “Right, Casey?”

Despite the plea in his Chuck’s voice, Casey shared a squint with Devon before allowing himself to be pulled through the paddock door. He went silently only because Chuck gave him a look of warning to behave, but the moment he and Casey stood in the back yard, enveloped in the evening dusk, Casey wrenched free. “Having a little trouble, Bartowski, keeping all your beaus straight? Maybe you need to draw it all out in one of your genius design books so they’re not tripping all over each other, eh?”

Chuck gave him a long-suffering look. “I would ask if you’re crazy, but I happen to already know the answer to that.”

“You live with this guy?”

“Uh, that’s true,” Chuck began cautiously. He got a brief flash of the same killer squint Devon had unwittingly endured a moment ago, but forced his bare feet not to back up a step. “But maybe you heard that I’m his roommate. Only that. I rent a room from him, John.”

“You have a nasty habit, that’s all.”

“Nasty habit?” Chuck asked, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“Need it spelled out?” Casey crossed his arms over his chest. “You fall for your roommates.”

“You think ... Devon ... and I ..?”

“Answer the question.”

“No.” Chuck rolled his eyes when it occurred to him being misconstrued could get him in a lot of trouble. So he took a deep breath and leaned against the fence that separated the garden from the main yard, ready to explain. “I mean, the answer is no. And whatever you’re thinking, well, Earth to Casey, okay? I never, ever betrayed you.”

Casey’s replying grunt was one that was yet to be categorized. There really should be a translation table somewhere.

“Really, Casey? Tell me you’re joking,” Chuck said, bristling anyway. “May I just point out that it’s a little insane considering I’ve waited here the entire time for you? And frankly, I thought ... you trusted me.”

Casey eyed him for a minute, debating, before he looked towards the barn and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Dumbass.”

“Out of all your pet names for me, that’s not my favorite,” Chuck responded, giving him an offended look. “And if you remember correctly, which I’m sure you do, I don’t just jump into bed with every man who -”

“Meant me,” Casey admitted begrudgingly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” When Casey moved in front of him, bodies close, and put his foot on the bottom slat of the fence, it rubbed up against the kid’s leg. Not an accident, Chuck guessed. The kid couldn’t tell if he was aching as he had been only moments before, but they both would be in no time if Casey didn’t remove his hard thigh from Chuck’s hip, or if he reached around him to put a hand on the railing next to the kid’s ribcage, maybe use his big body to box him in against the fence.

Oh. Kind of like that. Falling back on his habits, Casey seemed to apologize through an unspoken language. Taking his time to touch him; every point where exposed skin came in contact prickled with heat.

“You’re the dumbass? Okay, then,” Chuck said, giving him a crooked smile. “We can agree on that.”

Casey chose to ignore the tease by inclining his head towards the workshop. “We got rid of the blond doofus, so spit it out.” And to relay where his thoughts were lingering, he skimmed a few fingers over the kid’s bare chest, his thumb trailing slowly along the slope of each pec, the hard nub of a nipple, over to the other. “Is there a way to make this quick?”

“Oh –” Chuck hitched a breath, and Casey’s blue eyes flicked up to his face, openly satisfied his intimate knowledge remained intact. “Still like that, huh?” Casey murmured. “Good to know.”

“You’re making this hard for me.”

“Kinda the point, cupcake.”

“D-difficult, I meant.”

Casey leaned in even closer, his lips a hairsbreadth away, and a warm exhalation ghosted over Chuck’s temple, made him shiver. A memory that had been flitting around in the kid’s furthest reaches came forward. The first time they shared their bodies. Up against the side of a fence, a cool evening so far away from here, where Chuck was caged in between those powerful arms. He grabbed the edge of the railing in one hand, holding it so his knuckles whitened. So he wouldn’t be weak against him this time.

Okay, that’s useless.

“Thinking it too, aren’t you, kid?” Casey asked, slipping a few big fingers a little lower, underneath the first button of his jeans. “Ever see a sunset like that night? Never knew the Wolf Creek pass could be that color.” He pressed in against the restraint of denim, strong, sure fingers reaching in to skim over the base of Chuck’s cock. “Not that I was paying close mind to that.”

Chuck closed his eyes briefly at the touch, felt the familiar blush rise to his cheeks. Great. He still has it. “Dev - Devon’s right there, Casey. We ... can’t ... right now, okay?”

“How do we get rid of him?” As he spoke, Casey’s lips whispered along his collarbone, the stubble on his jaw scratching the kid’s damp neck. “Want to, don’t you? Waited four months, kid. I don’t plan on ... letting go this time.”

“I’m – ah – very good with that.”

“Still ticklish there. Heh.” Just to be sure, Casey kept his head bent low and found the side of his throat, nipped. “We can talk about how to get rid of the other one later.”

“Other ... what now?”

“Ssh. Keep your eyes open. Want you to watch.”

“Oh, no, there’s nothing to watch – what are you – ah.”

“Not if you keep squirming, there won’t be.” Casey, perhaps thinking Chuck was going to try and slip out of the tight spot between Casey and the fence, gripped his hip with the hand that wasn’t occupied, steadying him and holding his rangy body securely to the railings behind him. “Remember what I did for you?”

“You – you’re not serious. Here?” Chuck thought it best to stop him by grabbing hold of Casey’s biceps. Not his smartest move. The rock-hard swell of muscles was a momentary distraction until he felt the larger man’s fingers work their way south. Casey was not joking around. “No, no, no,” the kid gasped. “Um, now, I understand your plight – trust me on this, four months is a lonnng wait – but it seems to be interfering with this little thing I like to call logic.”

“You just worry about making that landlord of yours disappear, eh?”

“Hey. You say I’m the one who doesn’t listen?” Chuck asked, but Casey clearly wasn’t in the mood to hear about good judgment. As his lips touched the edge of Chuck’s ear, teasing, a few fingers snuck deeper into his pants, traced the light covering of hair that led in a dark arrow down to his cock. “Casey ....” This was a horrible idea ... and God, he didn’t know how long he’d be able to say the word no.

Wait.

“Who – who else are we getting rid of?” Chuck asked, pulling back.

“Bryce,” Casey answered without so much as a flinch. Giving up on getting a hand past the first button, he brought it up and out, instead slid a big palm along the outside of Chuck’s jeans. Discovering the bulge, he cupped him, testing, running his thumb over the length to catch the ridge of the crown. “Like that, too?”

“Oh ....” Involuntarily, the kid pushed into it, and the hard on made Casey chuckle against the kid’s throat. “You ... ah, Casey -”

“When we getting rid of the pants, brown eyes?”

“Ah - easy there, cowboy – oh, crap.” Chuck clamped his lips together, but it did nothing to hold back a low groan that Casey was sure to feel, now that his lips were pressed to the kid’s throat ... doing evil things. They had nothing on his thumb, gently toying with the head through his jeans. Hard to back away from something that felt that good. “You ... shouldn’t. No, wait. God ....”

Casey made an approving growl deep in his chest. “Yeah? Almost too easy, isn’t it?” Raising his head, he lined up his blue eyes directly with Chuck’s startled ones and muttered, “If you’re gonna be all proper, though, we can go upstairs.”

His boyfriend punctuated the offer by molding his fingers around him. Chuck did everything not to jerk his hips forward. That would definitely send the wrong message. “Go back to what you said .... Get rid of Bryce? As in?”

“Shoot him, of course.” One of Casey’s shoulders lifted, signaling that was a stupid-ass question.

“Shoot - you’re not in Kiowa County anymore!” Chuck sputtered. He tried to back away, but one part of his body didn’t take the command very well. “You – you can’t just shoot him!”

“Why the hell not?” Casey asked, his fingers caressing what the kid was trying to hide. “He played around with this, didn’t he?”

“Easy with that! Sheesh!”

“Fine.” Casey loosened his grip a mere centimeter. “Hell, I’d be doing the justice system a favor by cleaning up that little loose end. Where I come from, it would be a crime not to shoot the prick.” Suddenly, his face darkened and he bent forward, brushed his lips to Chuck’s, spoke against his mouth, “I told you before, kid, even though you seem hesitant to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“What he did is the same as rape. No two ways about it. And last time I checked, I’m your partner, aren’t I?”

Chuck shut his eyes, blocking out the word, instead sinking into the touch of his stroking fingertips. The real question was how Casey could close his palm around him that firmly, set a slow rhythm, and keep talking about anything, let alone killing a man.

Finally, Chuck managed to nod and say, “Mm – considering what I’m letting you do right now, yes, you could say that.”

“Good. And as your partner,” Casey said, stealing a kiss before he drew back, “I take my job seriously.”

“Bullets don’t solve everything, you know – oh.”

“Yeah?” Casey grabbed his attention by sliding his hand over denim, gradually over every inch until he could feel the kid’s balls. “Maybe not everything, but they solve a hell of a lot, and the rest isn’t worth getting worked up about.”

“Casey, I –....”

Casey swore softly as Chuck let out a little moan, undoubtedly enjoying the unraveling before him. At least until the kid clenched his teeth and cut off the sound. It was getting close to the point where he had to stop him, but ... just a few more seconds would be safe, wouldn’t it? After all, Casey’s body hid his hand, so even if Devon dared to come around the corner of the barn now, he couldn’t see what Casey was doing. It was innocent play, really, if you thought about it -

“What you want,” Casey murmured to his ear as he ran his thumb over one nipple, “is for me to ... maybe make you remember the last time. Would it help if I bend you over this fence and fuck you hard?” The solid line of bone and muscle leaned into the kid’s body. “Right here?”

Maybe not so innocent anymore.

“You ... you have to stop,” Chuck said, taking hold of those thick wrists. “I hate to be the one to remind you, but it seems one of us needs to think with, well, a different body part than that one.”

“Didn’t feel like you were complaining.”

“I’m not – but we’re not at the farm anymore, either. You can’t just – well ....” The kid rolled his eyes. “Help yourself when the mood strikes. We’re not farm animals.”

Casey seemed uncommonly perturbed that his hands were being held away. “I do have a slight sense of discretion, Bartowski,” he said. “Just pulling your chain about making good use of the fence.”

“You are?” Chuck heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, then.”

“Looks rickety as hell, for one,” Casey said, testing the top rail.

“Oh?”

“So what I’m gonna do instead is carry you upstairs and test the sturdiness of the bed you’re renting.” Showing that he wasn’t fooling about that, Casey backed up a step and dropped his shoulder to Chuck’s stomach, apparently ready to throw him over his wide back. “C’mere, cupcake.”

“Stop,” Chuck hissed, pushing on his shoulders while he still could. “You can’t just go around doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Are you serious?” Feeling his feet leave the ground, Chuck’s eyes went wide. “This! Grabbing me like a gunny sack when you need your itch scratched, that’s what!”

“Wanna bet?”

“And here we are, right back to needing to talk,” Chuck said. “Drop me.”

As Casey reluctantly complied, he threw the kid a narrow look. “Some things never change with you, do they?”

“Trust me, I ... want to,” Chuck said, “and in about an hour from now ... if everything works out, I plan on – well.” The kid paused, looked his horny boyfriend up and down, and cleared his throat. “Letting you, um, test as much as you’d like?”

“Good, we are on the same page,” Casey said, bending down to lift him again.

“Whoa.” Chuck’s hands flew up one more time. “Listen. I’m not done.”

“Jesus Christ,” Casey said. He added a few words in Gaelic that Chuck was certain weren’t fit for his ears.

“Uh, is that about it?” the kid asked.

Casey’s face remained utterly expressionless.

“All right, let me explain, then,” Chuck went on. “I’m still trying to get my mind around the fact that you’re here, okay? Standing in front of me. You have to let me catch up.” He glanced past Casey’s shoulder. “And ... now that you’re here – wow, I can’t believe I’m saying that - I have to take care of something.”

“Glad you see it my way, pancake,” Casey muttered, hooking his fingers into one of Chuck’s belt loops of his jeans. Chuck felt the shift of Casey’s hip as he tugged him closer, a gentle bump before he held his jaw and kissed him. “Finally using that big noggin for something useful.”

“I forgot how you get when you’re – ah - excited,” Chuck said, and flashed a lop-sided albeit apologetic smile. “But I mean Devon.”

“Devon,” Casey repeated skeptically. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Well, enough.” Chuck took a deep breath, and in a placating gesture, rode his hands up to Casey’s shoulders. His fingers automatically eased into more of a rhythmic massage, working out a kink that came with being too intense. “Where are your things?” he asked after a moment. “I’ve never seen you travel without your own private armory. Sundry guns? Your scary collection of pointy knives?”

“Back at the hotel.”

“Hotel?”

“Yes. Got into town this morning,” Casey explained. “I checked in, got a room. Dropped everything off there, except the essentials, and headed out.”

“Essentials?” A quick perusal told the kid that Casey’s idea of ‘essential’ weaponry on his body could’ve swung the outcome of the Alamo. He lifted a brow at his boyfriend. “You’re ... a little terrifying, sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Got a problem, cupcake?” Casey asked. Despite the smart aleck comment, one hand settled on Chuck’s hip, the other arm slid further over his bare middle, holding him by the waist. “Afraid?”

“Surprisingly no. Maybe I’m adapting to your tendencies.”

“Heh.”

“Then what?”

“I had to hit about four seedy saloons until I found someone who knew anything about you. Keeping a low profile, cnaipe?” The larger man pursed his lips as he considered it. “That’s good. You learned something, at least.”

“The hotel?” Chuck’s brows rose. Oh, God, please, don’t let it be the –

“Yeah. The Beaulieu Grande.”

Uh-oh. Chuck stayed absolutely still as Casey swatted at a mosquito. What should he do? He couldn’t let his boyfriend take him back there. Not where Bryce was staying.

“Um, change in plans,” Chuck said quickly. “I need you to go back to the hotel and pick up your things.”

“You just said you were worried about Devon – what he thinks? So maybe you’re right. Maybe it’d be easier to just pick you up and take you back to my room.” The powerful arm, conveniently wrapped around Chuck’s waist, tightened and the kid felt himself lifted off the ground.

“Hilarious that you meant that literally,” Chuck grumbled. “Now put me down.”

“Got what I need. Now let’s go.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Huh.” Casey took a step, paused to joggle him. “I was right. Still lighter than the gear.”

“I’m not – gah.” Deprived of other options, Chuck pinched Casey’s neck. “Down, okay?”

“Make up your damn mind,” Casey said with a squint, yet he did comply again. “Why would I go back to the hotel without you?”

“And pick up your things. Did you hear that part?”

“Then what?” Casey asked, interested again.

Chuck looked past Casey’s shoulder, towards the barn. Evening was closing in around them, shrouding the world in a bluish-purple hue. The old live oak in the middle of the yard, its outstretched branches yawning over the barn, darkened the edge of the garden where they stood. Crickets chirped. Still, there was no noise coming from the shadowed workshop. How had Devon been this patient so far, he had no idea.

“While you go get your things,” Chuck said tentatively, “that will give me a chance to talk to Devon.” His eyes cut over to Casey, judging the reaction, but his nerves didn’t need any more jangling. Part of his apprehension was driven by the surge of lust, which Casey had awoken just by giving it a good sound poke, the other by his impending awkward conversation, but he owed his friend some type of explanation.

Chuck wasn’t sure what that was yet, but at least he would have about ninety seconds to figure it out.

“Just found you, kid,” Casey said, holding him tighter. “Why would I leave you with that guy?”

Chuck stretched his fingers, moving slow and easy over the muscles that flowed smoothly from the shoulder to the curve of Casey’s chest. It made him want to ask himself the very same question. “The hotel is just down the road a few blocks, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So?”

“That will give me about twenty minutes to talk to him.”

Casey frowned when Chuck removed one of his hands to push it nervously through his hair. “What are you going to tell him?”

“The truth,” Chuck answered. “Devon’s been my only friend since I got here. He’s ... taken me under his wing – please don’t look at me that way – and he’s concerned. I owe him that much, at least, and probably more.” Leaning in, Chuck kissed the jealous scowl from his lover’s face. “I’m going to tell him about me ... us ... and,” the kid broke it off with a sigh, “ask him if you can stay here. Tonight, maybe a few days. Until we can figure things out.”

Without a warning, Casey returned the kiss, tongue briefly sweeping in to give him a taste, like warm ale or molasses on a summer day, and not at all unpleasant. When he pulled back, blue eyes watching him thoughtfully, he said, “About that.”

Chuck drew back and bunched up his brows, an uh-oh pinging him between the eyes. He knew Casey’s voice well enough by now, and there was trouble when his tone dropped like it had. “What do you mean ... ‘about that’?”

“I found you, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes,” Chuck said, giving him a puzzled smile.

“And Bryce found you,” Casey went on.

“Yes. And for the record, I’m not as excited about that.” Chuck tilted his head at him. “What are you getting at?”

For a couple of seconds, Casey kept his attention on Chuck’s face, weighing how to break it to him. “We’re gonna have to run again, kid.”

“What?” Chuck’s head snapped up, a startled expression crossing his face. “But you’re ... here now. Why do we have run?”

Casey snorted, unable to repress the ‘why do I have to explain this shit to you?’ look. “Your father could find you just as easily, though I have to say, I’m not as worried about that pompous ass now that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him.” After an uncertain pause, Casey briefly settled a hand on his holster. “But we have other worries.”

Chuck felt something punch through his stomach. “Liam.”

“Good boy,” Casey said. “Got it on the first try.”

“But what if we –”

“Don’t even start with me.” Casey took him by the arm as Chuck started to back away, using the hold to tow him in. “This time, I need you to shut up and listen to me. We already saw what happened the first time I ignored common sense.”

“I had my reasons -”

“Yeah, and I have mine,” Casey told him in no uncertain terms. “We went back to the farm. Right where I knew they’d find us. And they did.”

Chuck opened his mouth, considered the lack of an argument, and shook his head instead. “What if he doesn’t find us? The picture ... it wasn’t that easy to pick out that it was me. There’s more than one man building a flying machine. And some of them have, well, curly hair, I bet.”

“Not taking the chance, brown eyes.”

“So, that’s it, I suppose?” Chuck swallowed, looked off towards the house. “Being with you means leaving this place.”

“Yes,” Casey said, and he ran a hand down the center of Chuck’s bare chest, warm fingers tempting him. Leaning in, he put his lips to the kid’s ear, nuzzled, despite the fact he could see Chuck beginning to breathe heavier. “Is it worth the trade-off, kid?”

Chuck curved his hand over his and held on. “Yes. I ... I never stopped belonging to you. I guess what I learned is that this is just a place, isn’t it? But you and me ....” His voice trailed while a blush spread over his cheeks at the heated look Casey gave him. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You have learned something while I was gone,” Casey said mildly, a caress under the words. And even with the caution about Devon, he ducked his head and took his time kissing him, Casey’s mouth soft and warm, and Chuck molded instinctively against his hard chest. He was wholly conscious of his lover’s touch, his hand holding the back of his neck, pinning him against every contact point. Other than that, the world became blurry, and the kid promptly forgot about Liam and his father or anything else.

He was gasping when Casey at last pulled back. Their faces were close, his vision dominated by light blue eyes. “Does Devon know how to use the Smoothbore?” Casey asked.

“What?”

“The one he carries in his vest.”

Naturally, Casey would’ve noticed the silver six shooter tucked in the young doctor’s inside pocket. Why would that seem odd? “Yes, I’m sure he does,” Chuck said, turning a pair of quizzical eyes on Casey. “He always has it, especially if he gets called away at night in the back country. He said he once had to use it to put the fear of God in a mumper who stopped him out on Cypress Road once. Why?”

“I want you to go into the house with him, have your little girl talk if you must,” Casey added with an eye roll, “and stay there until I get back.”

“Seriously, you don’t think –”

“With you, Bartowski?” Casey scoffed. “Hell can rise up and devour us whole in less than twenty minutes.”

Chuck wisely kept his mouth shut, because Casey did have historical proof on his side. It didn’t stop him from glowering. “Fine,” he said. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If I have to stay out of trouble,” Chuck said, treading carefully as he latched onto one of Casey’s wrists, “I need you to promise you’ll steer clear of it yourself.”

“What kind of trouble can I get into at that fancy hotel?” Casey asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Chuck grimaced imperceptibly. The Beaulieu Grande, indeed, was fancy. Too fancy to have Bryce Larkin’s blood on their imported Turkish carpets. “Um, one more thing before you go.”

Casey didn’t reply, just stood still as Chuck released his wrists, stroking his arms all the way up, letting his palms trail over the swell and dip of his biceps. Jesus, all this time the man was a poltergeist eating away at the back of his brain. And now he was living, breathing, everything about him solid and real.

“What is it, kid?”

“Ah. Well .... wow, this isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be.” Chuck breathed out, focused on the path of his hands, traveling up to a pair of broad shoulders. When he closed his fingers around them, he felt Casey bring his body into his in response, one hand floating down his back to cup the kid’s buttock.

Maybe he heard the shyness in his voice. Instead of the usual impatience, Casey stared, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Say it, brown eyes,” he coaxed.

This was it. Chuck felt a rush in the depth of his belly and steadied himself by bringing his arm around his lover. Tipping his head, he brushed his lips over the firm mouth, the corners, tracing his lips with his tongue. Casey still didn’t move, letting the kid feel his heat and the beat of heart.

“I love you,” Chuck said hoarsely, and he swallowed before he lowered his lashes, focusing on the ground. There. He said it.

Casey shuffled uncomfortably against his body, looking past Chuck’s shoulder at the house. Oh, God. Disaster, Chuck thought. Why did he have to go and open his big mouth, ruin everything?

“You know, I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” Chuck backpedaled hastily.

The moment he began to retreat, however, Casey finally sprang into action. His hands came hard around Chuck’s waist, settling and slowing, pressing against him until the kid felt every rocklike inch where their bodies came together. He shivered and the breath went from him in an unwilling gasp. “Look at me,” Casey ordered softly, and when Chuck tipped his chin, the larger man leaned in, grazed his lips to Chuck’s throat, just below his ear, then across his cheekbone. With his hands gently exploring, he moved back to the mouth where Chuck prepared to continue his apology.

“Chuck. Stop.”

“Wh-what?” Breaking the contact, the kid saw a small smile curl one corner of his lover’s mouth. “Stop?”

Casey rolled his eyes at himself, breathed in, parted his lips to say something –

“Bro, I don’t know about the two of you,” they heard Devon say, abruptly appearing from around the corner, “but the mosquitoes are getting vicious. I think it’s time we get into the house – oh. Sorry.” He came to a halt, looking from Casey’s stormy countenance to Chuck’s bewildered one. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Everything ... okay out here, man?”

Casey had tensed and moved first, but now that he had put a few feet between their bodies, he relaxed against one of the fence posts, all nonchalant with a soupcon of fuck off directed at Devon. Only the kid could hear the growling noises, thank God.

“Oh, uh, yes. We were just going to get you,” Chuck said. He slanted a look at Casey, searching his features for any clues as to what he was about to say, but gave up. The face of stone was back, and it didn’t look like it was going anywhere. “Devon ... I need to talk to you.”

Devon’s forehead furrowed. “Sure, kid,” he said, sounding not quite sure at all. “What is it?”

“Alone, I meant. Is that okay?” Chuck mustered up a smile, wondering how he would get through the next twenty minutes of soul-baring conversation without freaking out.

In case you haven’t noticed, I like men. Oh, and I have a boyfriend.

Er, can he stay here tonight?

The bigger question, though, was how Casey would get through the next twenty minutes without connecting the dots between a handsome stranger who had similarly checked into the Beaulieu Grande today - and not kill him.

Chuck pushed a hand through his dark curls, sending up a silent prayer that his luck would change for once.

“Sure thing,” Devon said. “Meet you in the house, bro.” Though he nodded at the kid, he paused to give Casey a wary look, but the larger man only returned it with a ‘beat it’ expression. Devon shrugged and swung around, walking up the path to the back porch.

Chuck watched him go. When they were alone, a quiet between them, he turned to Casey, standing a few feet away. The leaves rustled in a warm breeze, the purple sky unfolding between the ruffling branches, a hushed tone over a lover’s unspoken promise. “Casey, what – what were you going to say?”

Either Chuck was still feeling the aftereffects of the earlier attack, or it was the dim light, but he swore he saw a blush creep up John Casey’s cheeks. “Not now,” his boyfriend said, and pointed his chin in Devon’s direction. “Follow him. I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes. Then ... I’ll finish what I started.”

Chuck’s dark eyes coursed over his mouth, but it was no use. Resigned, he lowered his lost gaze and started to follow, but a hand stopped him by bracing his hip. Being turned around, Chuck blinked at first before his brown eyes studied Casey’s face intently. “What?”

“This,” Casey said. Angling his head, he kissed him, long and deep within this time. A give and take, feeding him a heated taste of a secret. When he pulled back, he traced Chuck’s bottom lip with his thumb and took a deep breath. “Go.”

-x-

Bryce took the drink the bartender passed off and received a polite nod from the man. He had hoped that the Beaulieu Grande’s dining room wouldn’t be crowded this late in the evening, but nearly every table was full. As he scanned the room, he had to at least be appreciative that, for a small town, he might stand a chance of getting a decent meal. The tablecloths were white, standing out against the dark surroundings. Ebony woodwork was everywhere, the floors, the richly paneled walls, and the arched windows were draped with deep blue velvet curtains. Grandly scaled brass chandeliers hung in a row down the center of the room, casting only faint light and bathing the room in a shimmer.

A grim smile touched Bryce’s lips. Such a contrast to the business meeting he was about to join. He smoothed a hand over the front of his suit coat and pressed onward. Normally, Bryce would opt for the outdoor porch seating for dinner on an evening like this one, an uncomfortably warm day for October. His business partner, however, preferred a table in the back, half blocked by an ornamental carved wooden screen. Maybe it was to keep the riffraff wondering who scored a semi-private area in the only swanky place in town.

None of the table’s occupants rose as Bryce approached. “My men say you showed up alone, Bryce,” the man in the center said. “Failure doesn’t suit you.”

“And hello to you to.” Bryce raised his brows and unbuttoned his suit coat. It was stifling in the dining room, but the man watching him had stuck to his usual dapper uniform. Black suit, hounds tooth vest, high-collared, starched shirt. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

The gentleman, flanked by two others, cast a glance to the side and relented with a jerk of his head towards a chair.

“Down to business, I suppose,” Bryce observed, trying to keep his voice light. Great, he thought, helping himself to the fourth and last empty seat at the table. It would figure he’d be the one stuck looking at the wall behind the candlelit table rather than out towards the bar. He hid his annoyance by breaking into a smile, letting his eyes skim over the glasses in front of his tablemates. “What are we drinking?”

The older man, sitting directly across from him, merely folded his hands in front of himself. It was no surprise that Charles Adams the Second, Boston royalty of sorts and somehow a descendent of presidents through a fifth cousin on his father’s side, would take the seat facing the door. Bryce figured the man had left too many bodies behind him in all of his business dealings to ever sit with his back to a crowd.

Chuck’s father cast his eyes out over the mass of people in the dining room and shook his head. “Is he here?”

Bryce shrugged an answer and caught a waiter by the sleeve. “Is that a burgundy?”

The waiter looked down at the decanter on his tray. “It is.”

“Perfect,” Bryce said. The table was set with more knives and forks than he would ever know what to do with, all in a regimented placement next to the scrupulous order of the wine glasses. Taking a guess, he picked one and held it out.

If the look on the waiter’s face was any indication, he had chosen the correct glass. As soon as the waiter walked away, Bryce turned to the other men and lifted the cut-glass crystal. “Here’s to blind luck.”

Silence fell. It was even more awkward than Bryce thought it would be, in the inevitable situation that he had to deal with his friend’s father. The man made no indication he would return the toast.

Bryce lifted the glass anyway and took a sip. “Should I have asked for a Beaujolais?” he wondered, scanning the broad-faced goons in the other seats, half obscured by their beards. “Oh, and I assume you are picking up the tab, Mr. Adams?”

“Always the little smart ass,” Charles said, picking up a napkin to lay on his lap. “I never did understand what my son saw in you.” He motioned at someone. “Set it down.”

Bryce felt a movement at his elbow. He glanced up to see the waiter balancing a tray of dishes, and the servant avoided eye contact as he set down a fish course in front of each man. He was dismissed with one look from Chuck’s dad.

Well, that confirmed it. Daddy was aware, at least on a periphery level, of his son’s ... inclinations.

Bryce picked up his fork and took a few bites to cover his discomfort. He had no intention of commenting on his ... relationship with Chuck. The conversation lulled while his table companions picked up on Bryce’s reluctance and they began to eat.

How had Chuck’s father found out? The mystery of it hung like the pungent cigarette smoke in the air. There was no way Chuck would’ve told him. The kid was secretive as they come. Spying? Bryce had to wonder at the level of surveillance Mr. Adams imposed on his son, even when he was away at college, it seemed.

The bigger question was this: why was his friend not shut out and disowned from his family when the truth surfaced? If anything, Chuck’s dad seemed even more hotly intent to find him.

Bryce pressed his lips together as he considered it. Why would a man such as Mr. Adams even want his son back?

The sound of Adams pushing his plate away broke him out of his thoughts. “I have to give you some credit, Mr. Larkin. My men lost track of you three blocks from here.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know I was being followed?” Bryce shifted his gaze to the two men, who were now glaring at him. “I’m not giving up my finder’s fee that easily.” Which is why he had to ditch the assholes behind Long Branch saloon. Cake walk.

“Finder’s fee? It’s a bit premature to be counting your money,” Mr. Adams said, holding up a hand. “Tell me what happened.”

Bryce shot a look at the two men flanking Chuck’s father – goons or outlaws for hire, obviously not going anywhere – and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “He declined my invitation to dinner.”

“You couldn’t convince him?” Mr. Adams gave him a pointed look. It distinctly said, You? Pretty boy?

“Frankly, sir,” Bryce said evenly, “your son told me to fuck off.”

Mr. Adams lowered his wine glass and narrowed his eyes. “My son has learned a few new tricks, it seems. Only the devil knows what he did in that godforsaken place.” The older man ran two fingers over his dark moustache. “You said you may have to resort to ... a more persuasive alternative?”

Bryce lifted a shoulder. “He ... declined my invitation to come up to my room as well. Sir,” he tacked on dryly.

“That’s not the method I was referring to, young man,” Mr. Adams said. Ice hung on his voice. “You told me that if all other offers failed, you would convince my son with the pistol in your pocket. So, I’ll ask you again, where is he?”

“A fortuitous circumstance,” Bryce said, picking up his glass to take a drink. “For him. Not so great for me. Or us, I should say.”

“What do you mean?”

Bryce looked off to the side and fiddled with the crisp cuff of his shirt. “We were interrupted by another man,” he confessed. “I was forced to make a quick judgment.”

“How so?”

“I decided it wouldn’t be wise to bring another person into the game. It seemed ... prudent, at least, to back off. Take another shot at him when I could get your son alone.”

“Interesting that you think this is a game, Bryce,” Mr. Adams grumbled.

“I only meant that it’s dangerous to bring in an innocent bystander,” Bryce explained. “Besides, I got the impression Chuck is still a bit of a loner. Lost in his world? That hasn’t changed, from what I could see.”

“The flying machine.” Mr. Adams rolled his eyes and took a swig of wine. “Puh.”

Bryce had to frown, quite curious how his friend coped with a father who obviously quashed his dreams. Good thing the reminder of the money helped him shake it off. “An opportunity will arise. With all due respect, I know your son. Trust me.”

That noise was even more cynical. “Who was ... this man?” the father asked. “A ruffian?”

“Ruffian?”

Mr. Adams’ lips stretched into a humorless smile. “My son’s current ... infatuation,” he said. “You would know him if you saw him, trust me, Mr. Larkin. The man is as big and tall as a grizzly bear. Nothing nobbish about him.”

Recalling the doctor, Bryce shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh, come on, Bryce, you’re better than that. The man you met – he wore a gun belt and a leather vest. Hard as a railroad spike, I’d bet.” The glint of humor in Adams’ eyes died. “Though when I met the man, he was wearing nothing more than half buttoned up jeans and a pair of handcuffs.”

Bryce nearly choked on the poorly-timed sip. He wasn’t sure what to think of the handcuffs, maybe a rescue operation gone bad, but he was sure of one thing. His friend really, really had changed during his stint in the West. “That doesn’t sound at all like the man I met,” he said. “And I think I’d know him, since he interrupted us before I could persuade your son to come with me.”

“No? Are you certain?”

“A cross between a Titan and Jesse James? I think I’d remember that.”

Mr. Adams gave a begrudging eye roll of agreement. “Who was he, then?”

“Not anyone I’ve ever heard Chuck talk about before,” Bryce said. “He introduced himself as ....” Carefully, Bryce broke it off there and set his glass down. “Of course, if I tell you, you’ll know exactly where I was ... who the other man is .... And let’s face it. I’m not willing to divvy up the finder’s fee. I assume the five thousand dollars is still on the table.”

“It is,” Adams said, and both of the goons gave Bryce dirty looks. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to when I can expect to have the funds transferred to your account.”

“Tomorrow evening,” Bryce assured him. “At the latest. You’ll know when it happens.”

“Where will I find him?” the father asked through his teeth.

“In my hotel room, of course,” Bryce said, knowing it would piss him off to no end, thinking of his son in Bryce’s bed. Hell, that’s why he chose it. “And then we’ll have a fair trade. Your son. My money.” He made a show of reaching across the table for a sherry glass, lifting it in a toast, and polishing it off. “Hm. Not bad.” As Bryce smacked his lips, he glanced at the bearded lackeys. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d prefer not to be trailed by your brain trust here. A waste of time, don’t you think?”

“Do me a favor, Bryce. Please shut up, get up from my table, and do the job for which I’m paying you.” Adams angrily tore into a dinner roll, though that could be attributed to speculating how Bryce would get Chuck to his room.

Bryce let him think it, though he had his own doubts. Since his charms had less than spectacular results, Bryce suspected he’d have to use the threat of bodily harm to bring Chuck back to the hotel. The five barrel Pepperbox pistol he carried in his vest would do the convincing.

“Guess I should get to work,” Bryce said and rose to his feet. As he turned to leave, a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I don’t care how it happens,” Adams said under his breath. “Rough him up. Seduce him if you must. Just bring me my son.”

-x-

Chuck rested an elbow on the fence and held his chin in his hand, watching as Casey strode away. Absorbed in the events of the past few hours, he took a minute or two to collect himself before he’d be forced to follow Devon into the house.

Maybe his delay tactic was because a big part of him still needed to be pinched that Casey was here in the flesh. There was, perhaps, another reason Chuck was squinting into the dusk under the massive oak tree, not moving just yet. He happened to enjoy watching his lover from this vantage point. Tall, straight-bodied, broad back ... an ass he could bounce a George T. Morgan silver dollar off of and let that baby fly -

“Damn,” Chuck said softly to himself. He felt a tiny stab when Casey disappeared around the corner of the house, but he had every intention of getting a much better look at his boyfriend’s well-formed buttocks tonight.

Then a little later, when they lay in the dark, he’d stroke his back absently, damp with perspiration and exertion -

“Okay, not now.” Chuck shook his head briskly. “First, Devon.” So even while his mind whirled, threatening to show him images of his naked partner that had been locked away in the recesses of his brain, he looked towards the back porch.

How did one go about doing this, anyway?

“Hey, Devon,” he said, rehearsing under his breath, “what you saw wasn’t your imagination.” Yes, that was groping. “And the scruffy outlaw? He’s my ... well, it kind of – how should I say .... Oh, God.” Chuck could only wrinkle his nose at the way he sounded. “Spectacular, Bartowski. If the warm-up version goes that persuasively, I can’t wait for the real deal. Just get it over with okay?”

Giving one last forlorn look at his workshop, Chuck pushed off from the fence. He only wished he had more time to come up with a suitable explanation, or at least plausible deniability, but Casey would be back in less than twenty minutes.

Twenty-five if he figured out who Bryce Larkin is. That would give Casey sufficient time to hide the body in the drainage ditch behind the Beaulieu Grande.

“Please don’t let him find him,” Chuck repeated, rubbing his forehead. Well, he had less time than he anticipated. Unfortunately, right before he turned, Chuck squared his attention on the paddock door hanging wide open. “Great.” He’d have to quickly put a few scattered items away – it was his organized soul speaking - and get the barn locked up for the night. Of course, it’d burn a few more precious minutes that he was going to need to stammer out his story to Devon.

Chuck shrugged, turned, and started to trot to the barn.

Started to. He managed a few running steps before a man he had never laid eyes on rounded the south corner of the barn and pointed a gun right at his chest.

“Hello, Chuck,” the man said. “Just take it easy, kid, and I won’t have to pull the trigger just yet.”

The kid froze on the spot, blinking down at the gun.

Suddenly, his safe place wasn’t so safe anymore.

“Oh, crap,” Chuck managed.

The man stood still, assessing him, giving Chuck only a vision of grubby jeans and a black shirt, a tan hat low on his head. He shifted his grip on the gun, his eyes traveling from Chuck to the back porch where Devon had been just a few seconds ago.

Do something, his slow brain ordered.

Chuck opened his mouth, inhaled hugely, ready to bellow out an alert to anyone within three blocks of where he stood.

“Don’t know why you’re so important, princess,” the stranger broke in, and the black hole of the muzzle jerked up towards his head, “but I will shoot you if you even think of letting that out.”

It was like a lasso had tightened around his neck. But he couldn’t just stand there and be scooped up without putting up a fight, could he?

Chuck felt two fists form at his side. Before the kid realized exactly what his body was doing, he lurched forward, swept out his right hand in a whip stroke, knocking the gun’s aim away from his body.

“Hey!” the man barked, his eyes darting past Chuck’s shoulder, “I thought you said he wouldn’t know how to fight back!”

Who was he talking to? Behind him? Oh, not good.

In a move to protect himself more than anything, Chuck’s left elbow swung up behind him in a hard jab. It came in contact with something fleshy, the blow catching the man in the side of his face.

“You little bastard,” he heard a man hiss in his ear.

“Hit him, goddammit, and get it over with!”

Chuck prepared to let out a scream, and this time he didn’t care how the outlaw with the gun threatened him. The fear felt exactly as though somebody had taken a hot iron to his stomach and pressed so hard that he could smell the burning flesh. Every heartbeat flooded his head with dizziness.

“Good idea,” his companion said, chuckling. “Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

“No –” Chuck blurted before there was a crushing blow to the back of his head. He staggered back, hard. His head was splitting in two, or felt like it had. There was no fighting now. Each limb of his body gave in all at once, sent him sprawling to the ground.

Stars burst from the edge of his vision to the center. And like that, the world around him went completely dark.

-x-

When Vic’s ears twitched, not towards the house but towards the barn in back, Casey slowed to a halt and cocked his ear to listen. The humid night air was filled with the chorus of cicadas and crickets in competition, the clop of horse hooves up the road. Other than that, he heard nothing else.

Yet Vic did, and that was enough for his body to slowly tense up, the muscles knit together as he felt a mounting sense of uneasiness. He glanced down to Vic’s ears, now snapped flat, watched as she first sniffed, before she squealed, stomped.

“Hst, girl,” he said, quietly sliding out of the saddle. “It’ll be all right.”

Hand already in his holster, releasing the strap that held the Colt in its pouch, Casey had a brief recollection slink to the front of his thoughts. The ticket agent behind the counter thought he was crazy when Casey laid out his demand. Leaving Chicago like a bat out of hell did not mean he’d depart without a few basic necessities. The gun trunk alone cost him an extra ten dollars to transport, but when would he be back? The real kicker, though, was telling the little nibbler that he would need to buy up space in a stock car in order to ship a single solitary horse.

The agent laughed at what it would cost and told Casey they do have horses in the Carolinas. Casey told him to mind his own fucking business and doled out the three hundred dollars. He figured a quarter of a cattle car should suffice. Vic hated rubbing haunches with run of the mill livestock, and she’d certainly give him a silent earful if he even thought of treating her like a no account Holstein on its way to the slaughter house.

If there was any question why he had gone to such lengths for a horse, the past minute justified the means. Her uncanny instincts had kept him out of trouble more times than he could count.

Still, was he being overly paranoid? Casey focused his eyes towards the fence in front of the barn to the place he had told Chuck to meet him. Obviously, something was lost in translation or got fouled up along the way, because it’d be hard not to pick out a six foot four city boy from this distance.

He nearly sighed to himself in frustration. The instructions were simple, weren’t they, kid?

Maybe this time it wasn’t his fault. Dropping the reins to the ground, Casey put his hand down, palm flat, a signal that Vic knew all too well. Stay. In the back of his mind, he wondered why Vic could pick up directions with more ease than his boyfriend, but he’d save that thought for another time.

Casey moved past the fence to the end of the barn, his boots making no noise in the grass. The kerosene lantern that he knew wasn’t lit before coaxed him in, one step, and then another. Just outside the paddock doorway, Casey lifted the Colt and automatically assumed a shooter’s stance. He came to a halt, feeling his heart begin to ratchet in his chest. Someone was in there. He could feel the proximity of another person hovering in the air. Even Chuck wouldn’t have lost his way from the fence to the house. Inside was a problem.

Casey adjusted the cool-metaled solution in his palm. Nice and easy, he told himself. And at the count of three, he got low and swung around the corner, leading with his handgun. As soon as he was inside the doorway, Casey peered through the frame of the airplane, hoping Vic was wrong for once.

He never got the chance to wonder why she was always so damn right.

On the other side of the workshop, Rudy sat on one wing of the plane, picking his teeth with a tiny piece of wood. When he spotted Casey, his face split into a festering grin.

“Ah, glad to see you could finally join me, Johnnie,” Rudy said. He hopped off the wing, making the plane bounce, and dusted his hands over his shirt. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

Casey had his pistol pointed at the spot between his brows before Rudy could chuckle out the rest. “Tell me where the kid is before I shoot you.”

Rudy held his hands up in an act of mock surrender. “Ah-ah. You might want to think about that,” he said. “If you shoot me, laddie, well, there’s a good chance it will only bring more harm onto that boy of yours.” He pretended to stop and think about it, tapping a finger over his lips. “Ah, let’s be honest among friends. More harm than Liam already has planned for him.”

x- End Chapter Three Where the Road Ends-x-


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

-x-

Don’t shoot him yet.

The rational part of his brain chimed in with a message Casey found unhelpful yet needed. Because as far as Casey understood, Chuck was being carted to some mysterious location, his own hands were figuratively tied, and now would not be the time to be trigger-happy.

No matter how badly he wanted to just pull it.

“Answer the question,” Casey ordered, keeping the gun squarely aimed at Rudy’s head. Despite the gruff fury in his voice, revulsion and fear began to tumble together to pound his stomach into a sickening knot. “Where’s. The. Kid.”

“As I said, Johnnie, I’m simply the messenger in this ... transaction,” Rudy pronounced slowly. He lifted his hand to slide his bowler hat off his head, a move that almost earned him a bullet hole until Casey’s senses told him he wasn’t reaching for a hidden pistol. Instead, the little weasel wiped a forearm over his forehead, his smirk staying firmly in place. “Hot, isn’t it?”

Casey gritted his teeth and adjusted his finger on the trigger, determined to keep Rudy’s head lined up in his front sight until he spilled.

“Still impatient, I see. Never were one for small talk, now, were you, boyo?” Rudy stuffed one hand in his trousers’ pocket and brushed the other down his navy blue jacket. His face was clean-shaven, a first as far as Casey could recollect. Evidently, the little filcher had been trying to blend in with the town’s dandies, though Casey wanted to tell him dressing up a turd still made him a turd. “I’m here to relay a message from your previous employer,” Rudy went on, sounding official. “He’d like to make a little deal with you.”

“Let me guess. He’s missing something from a few of his bank accounts.”

“Always to the point. That’s what Liam appreciated about you,” Rudy said. He glanced over at the flying machine with a furrowed brow and laughed. “And your boy is still a bit loco, I see.”

It took everything for Casey not to shoot him. Every muscle wanted to react. Reality warned him, however, that since he had only this little cheat to pass along the message, Casey would have to listen and suffer.

“Liam has a little offer for you, Johnnie ... but I wouldn’t waste time considering the options. Not with your boy, well ... under his care.” Rudy had his face turned towards the machine, but made a point of refocusing his attention on Casey before he winked. “For safe keeping and all.”

“You need to pass along a message to him, then.” Casey’s low voice had gone deeper, dangerously so. “That I will kill him if anything happens to the kid.”

“Then you understand the ... urgency of the matter.” Rudy smiled and tossed the toothpick off to the side. Not accidently, it landed on top of one of the wings. “Simple math, really, laddie. It seems our boss lost almost 800, 000 dollars somewhere between Colorado and here. Misplaced, maybe? Now, it seems to him that you might just know something about that. In fact, he thinks you might have something of his. And now ... he has something of yours, doesn’t he?” Rudy shrugged that off and held out his hands, the greasy smile further curling his lip. “Seems only fair to make a trade.”

“He wants the money.”

“All of it,” Rudy replied coolly. “Every last dime, Johnnie.” Without further explanation, he tugged on one of the braces that held the top wing in place, pretending to test it. “Quite a mind your boy has ....”

Watching Rudy’s hand, Casey was relieved to see that the brace held tight. “Since you’re feeling all chatty,” he said, his voice becoming a growl, “maybe you can answer something for me.”

“Oh. You’re wondering, aren’t you?” Rudy turned to cock his head at Casey. “Go ahead. You can ask. It bothers you, doesn’t it, Johnnie, that I’m standing here ... and you’re standing on the wrong side of our Chairman. What? Were you surprised to see me?”

“Not surprised that something with a scent of fresh-laid shit came out smelling like a rose.” Casey sniffed the air and pointed the muzzle over him, up and down. “You always did have a way of rolling around in it without getting any stuck to you.”

Rudy’s tight-lipped smile twitched before it slipped into a scowl. “Know what smells better than that, Johnnie-boy? That boy of yours.” Tipping his nose up in the air, Rudy inhaled dramatically. “Ah. Right there. Just ... smells like the sweet flush of innocence on a rose, doesn’t he? Bet you miss that smell already.”

Casey shoulder’s tightened. If his arm had lowered any, it jerked right back up and level again. “You’re going to miss being able to breathe.”

“Ah, don’t be that way, Johnnie. What’s a little humor between old friends?” Rudy shook his head, lips pursed. “As far as coming out okay, it’s a shame for your boy that you didn’t have the same luck,” he said. “Rightly fortuitous, though, for me.”

Casey let him get two more steps around the wing before he stopped him by cocking the pistol. It did confirm which snake had bit him, but he still wanted to hear it from the grafter’s mouth. “Humor me with you story.”

“Sure, Johnnie, easy with the gun. I’ll tell you. Old friends, remember?” The tip of Rudy’s tongue made a brief swipe of his bottom lip. “After you slipped out of Black Rock with the kid, it seems our boss could only draw one kind of conclusion. Made it really easy for him ... and yours truly.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Casey said in the same tone one would use before putting a bullet between another man’s eyes. “All this happen before or after you made your deal with the kid’s dad? Something tells me Liam never heard that side of the yarn.”

Settling a hand on one of the wings, Rudy brushed it back and forth over the smooth wooden surface. “Nice. Your boy spent his time on this. Good with his hands, was he?”

Casey bristled. Pointing out that he would rightfully kick his ass if he continued to talk about Chuck in past tense, however, seemed counterproductive. “So, let me guess. In your version, I was the one who drew Liam to Canon City in order to cut a deal with Adams.”

“Mm. What do you suppose this is?” Rudy asked, touching one of the pulleys.

“Hands off. Unless you want your fucking fingers broken. Answer the question.”

“Eh, touchy, aren’t you, laddie,” Rudy exclaimed, wiping his hands down his shirt. “No harm. See?”

“Had to be a bit of a whopper to sell to our boss, even for a practiced liar like yourself.” Casey scoffed, though his pulse pounded in his ears. “Liam actually thought I’d protect the kid – only to deliver him to his dad?”

“Oh, no worries about that detail, Johnnie,” Rudy said, glibness dripping from his tone. He took a moment to stroll around the wing tip, his face now fully into the light emitted from the kerosene lantern. “Liam thinks it was a setup of the boy’s father as well.”

Casey had a perfect view into his eyes, dancing with a devilish gleam. “Really thought it all out, didn’t you?”

Rudy shrugged. “Since your boy and his old man were on the out and out as it were, it took no trouble at all to plant the seed.” He picked up a loose nail the kid had left on the frame and began to toss it in his hands while he measured Casey’s reaction. “While you’ve been out plantin’ some of your own?”

If he expected Casey to sneer out that the kid lacked the basic plumbing, Casey wasn’t about to take the bait. “Does this story have an ending,” he asked, leveling the handgun, “or do I get to end it my way.”

“Easy, Johnnie-lad, I’m almost there.” Sparing a glance towards a part that looked like a boat’s rudders, Rudy turned up the charming smile. “After that, Liam figured that the kid was willing to pay you to ... take care of his dad. Solve two problems at once?”

“That kid would never even think it, no matter how much he hates the old man.”

“Well, you know that, don’t you, Johnnie, being all ... close to him. But Liam didn’t get where he was trustin’ the goodness in mankind, now, did he?”

Casey gave him a cold stare. Rudy really wasn’t long for this world when this was over.

“So I helped convince Liam ... well.” Smiling, the short man raised his forefinger and thumb to feign a pistol, and then pulled his thumb down. “Boom. Nice, clean shot to the head. Your doing. Not the kid, of course. Lacks balls, eh? But that’s how the boss and I believe it would’ve gone down - if you were able to pull it off.”

“Anyone buy this crock of shit?”

“It was easy enough, boyo. And after that, you get to grab your boy and take him wherever you want.” He raised an amused brow at Casey. “Do whatever you want to him.”

“Keep the kid out of this.”

“Little hard to do that now, isn’t it, Johnnie? You brought your boy into the middle of it.”

“And now you’re going to tell me how I get him out, I suppose.”

“Smart,” Rudy began, stopping to scratch the back of his head. “Here’s the thing, laddie. Mind if I bore you for a minute? There, that’s a good man. Now, if you’re willin’, and I think you are, we’re gonna make arrangements for a little trade-off. You’ll get the details delivered tomorrow to your hotel room. 236, is it?” When Casey didn’t acknowledge the question – they both knew it was - the smaller man leaned against the front of the plane and folded his arms over his jacket. “There will be instructions, and my advice to you is to follow them.”

“That’s it?” Casey snorted and switched the gun to his left so that he could tug his Bowie knife from his belt. “Because I’m asking myself why I shouldn’t just pull the trigger and then gut you right now, and honestly, I can’t come up with a decent reason.”

“Nah, you should’ve when you had the chance.” Rudy gave him a bland look and began picking at one of his dirty fingernails. “I wouldn’t be pointing a gun at the only man who stands between you and the kid. Cut myself a little deal with my partner tonight. The one who’s taking him in? And if I don’t make it back, that boy is as good as dead.”

“I don’t think you want to die that badly,” Casey said, his finger squeezing down another millimeter.

“Think about it before you do that, Johnnie. Here on the outer banks? Lots of places to put a body – hell, ya got the whole damn ocean. Would you like to find him? Washing up in some seaweed?” Rudy shook his head in mock regret. “Once saw a man who drowned. Skin wasn’t white, no siree. Sitting in the water, fishes nibbling, well now .... It was swollen as big as one of those dirigibles ... But the strangest thing. Turned black as coal. So, if you want me to be able to relay your agreement to our little deal ... I suggest you rethink your plan on pulling that trigger.”

“Yeah? So what do you think happens after that?”

Rudy lifted a shoulder. “Go back to being happy ever after.”

“We both know Liam has no intention of letting either of us live,” Casey said.

“I wonder ... how sturdy your boy built this ....” Taking hold of one of the braces, Rudy looked at Casey before he gave it a good shake. As the frame wobbled, Casey wondered if he would take the opportunity to snap it in two. If he did, he couldn’t guarantee that he’d resist the urge to shoot him. Yes, he had fucked up by not protecting Chuck, something he could beat himself up about later. But odd as it sounded, the flying machine was the one thing Casey could safeguard now, and by God, he would do it.

“Avoidance,” Casey said. “Glad you didn’t argue the point.”

“That’s a chance you’re going to have to take, Johnnie,” Rudy told him, and dropping his hand, he pulled a white hanky out of his pocket, wiped his brow. “It’s the thing about love. She feels so good when she’s holding on ... warm. Safe. But when she lets go? Well, she’s nothing but a mother scratching bitch, ain’t she?”

“What the fuck would you know about that?”

“Nothing, actually. So, are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

As Casey glared at him without a word, Rudy grinned and strolled closer. They both knew the answer. He was helpless until tomorrow morning - which meant Chuck would be in Liam’s grasp for at least the next day.

Think about it good and hard, Johnnie-boy, he could hear Liam whisper. Your boy’s alone with me now.

The paralyzing thought was deliberate, as were the pictures now meant to flow through his mind. No one took as much pleasure at sticking hot coals in a wound as Liam O’ Doherty. The point was to let Casey torture himself for a while with wandering imagery of other hands on the kid’s body, maybe another man with him ... by force.

Damn you to hell. Want me to think about it?

Casey would think. He’d think of all the ways that utter bastard was going to die. Because tomorrow or the day after, nothing would stop him but putting a bullet through Liam’s chest where his heart would’ve been.

Looking down the barrel at Rudy’s flippant expression, Casey’s fingers knotted with the discomfort of holding the gun too hard. He fought back the reaction, knowing it was a mistake to show the other man how he felt, that dread had already begun to eat through his stomach.

“Johnnie, look at this,” Rudy said with bogus interest. He had moved over to one of the rudders, adjusting it side to side. “What do you suppose this does?”

Casey’s arm whirled, the knife suddenly in motion. A flick of his hand and that same knife sprouted from the rudder, pinning Rudy’s sleeve in a heartbeat. “Sure you wanna leave your hand there?” he asked.

“Easy,” Rudy said. “No need to get testy.” It took some effort on his part to dislodge the blade. When he did, the little heister put up his hands, grinning. “What happened to you, anyway, Johnnie? Did that boy make you ... soft?”

“Anything about me look soft to you?” Casey replied, letting him get a good look at the knife before he slid it back in his belt. “Forgiving?”

Rudy’s eyes flicked across Casey’s body, letting him come to a silent conclusion. “Never taught him to fight, though, did you? Too bad, really.”

“Take it you went the coward’s route? Snuck up on the kid?” Chicken-shits, Casey figured. He had already scanned the room, and from the evidence, there was no sign of a struggle. Nothing was toppled. Obviously, Rudy and someone else – maybe more - ended the scuffle before it could start.

“Would it matter?” Rudy chuckled.

Casey stepped forward and squinted down at him. The light from the lantern splashed over Rudy’s face, revealed something Casey was only vaguely certain of until now. “Can’t fight, eh? That shiner you’ll be sporting tomorrow tells me otherwise.”

Rudy touched a spot under his brow and failed to repress a wince. “I guess I have to give the kid some credit, after all,” he admitted. “He got in one lucky shot with his elbow before he hit the ground. Hope it didn’t leave a goose egg on that big noggin. You want him to finish ... his toy here, don’t you?”

“You little son of a bitch –” Casey bit out before he warned himself what Rudy was after. How much can I piss you off, John Casey?

“You should be happy with that, laddie. The more he’d fight, the more bruised he’d be. Better this way.”

“And I still have a gun pointed at your head,” Casey said, snapping it up level again.

“Tsk, tsk. Such E-Mo-tion, Johnnie. Coming from you, too.” Rudy put a sympathetic look on his face even though Casey knew it was the last thing he felt. “No worries. My lads only had to teach him a small lesson before carting him off. Oh, your boy will have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.” He tucked the handkerchief in his pocket and smoothed his hand over the bump. Then he went on, unable to contain the ominous taunting in his voice. “Though Liam will make sure that isn’t the worst of his worries, eh, laddie?”

Casey’s eyes narrowed, taking a harder look at his face. Anger forced his consciousness to a single point. Straight to nowhere, for now.

“What do you say, Johnnie?” The other man was watching him carefully now, wondering if he would let those very same emotions lead to recklessness.

“Get out,” Casey ground out, and he motioned with the barrel. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t kill Rudy. It was going to happen. He just couldn’t kill him now.

“Once you get the instructions, I wouldn’t wait. You know how our boss works.” Rudy tipped his bowler hat and paused, looking straight at Casey and nothing else. “Mr. O’ Doherty’s not going to waste time to hurt something that pretty,” he said. “Sweet dreams, Johnnie-boy.

-x-

Casey picked up his Smith & Wesson from the top of the walnut parlor table, studied the worn metal on the grip, and began to work his brush into the fluted cylinder. The double-action revolver was a lesser weapon than the Colt in his estimation. Too simple, not as powerful or accurate. Just a decent spare to keep tucked in the boot was all, but it could use a good cleaning.

Why was it so fucking hot? He always found hotel rooms warm whenever he had the misfortune of needing a place to hole up. The only saving grace was the trunk of guns and a mundane task to keep his hands busy, giving him time to sort out his blueprint of a plan. In what he hoped would let his mind focus, Casey attacked each weapon in his arsenal with a watchmaker’s precision. Every damn one of them from his Allen single-shot to his Winchester rifle got the special treatment.

Checking the clock in his hotel room, he noted that it was three forty-five a.m. when he ran out of guns to clean.

Maybe he needed more guns.

He thought back on the evening. After Rudy strolled out of the workshop with that smirk on his face, Casey’s first instinct was to tail him. And though he already knew what it would get him, it beat the hell out of standing there wanting to punch a hole through the wall.

In the end, he was right about that. Dead end. The little rutter - and Liam - knew the rudimentary first grasp at a straw. It wasn’t a surprise that Rudy brought his horse to a stop at the Xavier Hotel, a fancy name for a place that wasn’t much more than a run-down shack behind a boisterous saloon and an even more boisterous whorehouse. The smaller man even waited on the narrow porch, leaning a shoulder against a post when Casey came into view, and asked him if he wanted to join him at the bar for a glass of whiskey. He said something about Casey looking like he might need one.

Casey agreed. At least to get close enough to give him an elbow exactly in the place Chuck had evidently cranked him earlier in the evening. Petty, yet satisfying. But no way was the kid holed up there with Liam. For one, his boss would never step foot in a place where the fleas outnumbered the paying guests tenfold.

Around midnight, in the midst of polishing his Bowie knife, Casey had contemplated not waiting any longer for the damn instructions to be delivered. Waiting was killing him. Maybe he should just head out on his own.

Luckily, a bit of common sense won out. Liam knew what he was doing. Trying to find the kid in the middle of the night in unfamiliar territory would be worse than a turtle in an empty bathtub, just clawing to get up the side.

Then where were they?

That question was hardly the one that mattered. It was almost impossible to even think the real question, but all night long it leached like black ooze into his brain.

What was happening to Chuck? Right now, this very minute?

Was he squirming, hurting, could he move? Fight back? How much of his flesh would Liam take for paying off Casey’s deeds? Because holy God, he wanted to see Casey bleed from the heart. It was the reason Casey decided early in life to steer clear of things that made him weak, susceptible. Human.

Until he stumbled upon a farm. Until Chuck. All it took was seven goddamn days to fuck himself over. Just for a pair of brown eyes the color of worn leather and a smile like a flash of sunlight in a dark cave. It changed absolutely everything about him.

Outside across the street, he could hear the saloon closing up for the night, people being herded out and told to go home. A few more hours crawled by. Finally, Casey stretched out on top of the bed, exhaustion holding him down, and even slipped off into an uncomfortable slumber for a while.

When he awoke, he saw sunlight through the curtains and felt guilty, wondering if the kid had been able to sleep at all. If Liam had let him ....

Fuck it. If he rode out right now, just dropping everything, would he have any chance of finding Chuck? He wouldn’t get far, he guessed, before the futility would swallow him whole.

Climbing out of bed, Casey saw his gun case open and the last pistol he had worked on still half-disassembled. As Casey began to slide the pieces back together, metal grating, he heard a small tapping noise on the door.

“Guess this is where it starts,” he muttered. Setting down the half-assembled gun, he picked up the Colt, checked the chamber – loaded - and walked over to the door.

At least he had done one thing right. Using one of the tiny steel rods from his gun cleaning kit, Casey had drilled a tiny peephole in his door around three a.m. this morning. It gave him a clean view out into the hallway, to the man now waiting outside his hotel room.

The stranger had his face turned, timidly glimpsing each way. Casey could only catch the sight of long sideburns, blond and barely standing out in contrast from his cheeks. More blond hair stuck out from under his round brimmed hat. Casey searched his memory, but the face came up blank. A clueless courier, no doubt. Even with a gun to his head, this punk would know nothing.

Casey took a deep breath and swung the door open. “Let me guess,” he said before the kid could speak. “You have a letter for me.”

“Um, only if you’re John Casey,” the young man replied, tilting his head to blink up at him. The letter in his hand had a few creases, showing that he had nervously fiddled with it. “They said you were ... tall ... blue eyes. Wow. I guess I just wasn’t expecting someone quite that tall, though –”

“Just give me the fucking letter,” Casey growled, leaning in closer to loom. When the kid just stared, Casey swiped it out of his sweaty fingers. “Who gave you this?”

“I – don’t know his name. He was downstairs a while ago – a short fellow with bad teeth.” The young man darted his eyes to check out the hallway situation. “He asked me if I wanted to earn five dollars. I figured he had to be crazy, but he gave it to me – just for waiting a half hour and then taking the letter up to room 236.”

Rudy. He’d be long gone by now.

Casey pretended to wrap a companionable arm around his shoulder. “Got anything else?”

“N-no,” the greenhorn stammered. “That – that was it.”

“Good. Then get the hell out of here,” Casey said, spinning him around to give him a push. “Not in the mood for chit-chat today.” A lot like every other day, but the punk didn’t need to know that.

“Yes, yes, sir.”

Casey caught only a glimpse of the kid fleeing before he slammed the door closed. He turned the letter over in his hand. No writing on the envelope, not that he expected any. He was well aware of Liam’s methods, knew it would only contain the barest of information. In his position, Liam could taunt him, torture him with the written word, but it wasn’t his style. Not when he could withhold his malice for the face to face meeting this would be sure to lead up to.

Moving towards the window, Casey tore the envelope open and wasn’t surprised to see Liam’s carefully written script.

‘I’m giving you twenty-four hours to close out the accounts where you’re holding my money. An escort will meet you tomorrow at this time on the west end of the hotel’s front porch. He’ll take you where you need to go. Bring the money. I don’t need to tell you to come alone, do I lad? You never did like to play nice with others.

But he’s nice, Johnnie. So like a fractious colt needing training, isn’t he? Is that what pulled you in? Or was it that hard, tight little body? I like it. Half frightened, half stubborn, but sweet as fresh apples, I bet, when he’s tamed.

Thanks for the gift.’

As Casey clenched his jaw, his fingers closed briefly over the letter. Liam broke from his own methods this time. Torturing him, even just a bit, was much too tempting.

Throwing the letter down on the table, Casey ran a hand over the back of his neck. The accounts were the least of his worries. Money transfers via telegraph wires were simple enough, and though the cash was held in multiple banks and accounts, he was certain he could pull it off in a day.

To do what? Stuff it all in a bag, hop on his horse, and blindly follow the courier to what had to be a set-up? If only he knew where the kid was being held, it would give him an opportunity to scope out the area. Even if he was walking into an ambush, he could at least look it in the eyes.

“Bet you’re watching me, too, aren’t you?” Casey said out loud, and he turned to the window. The paranoia was justified in this case, he thought, lifting the curtain to peer out at the busy street. His room looked down on a row of storefronts with living quarters above them. There were wagons, coaches, tradesmen on their way to work. It would be nearly impossible to pick out the spy.

Turning away, Casey caught a glimpse of himself in the washstand mirror. A loner looked back at him. Here it was, the one damn time in his life he could really use a partner, someone who could bypass the observers, maybe someone who knew how to use a gun. But there was nobody else.

“Suppose sending the cavalry is out of the question,” he mumbled to whatever deity was listening. But since he never ranked with the deities, he grabbed his holster and began to cinch it around his waist. Getting to the bank would get him out of here. Give him time to think.

Another short tap at the door made him look over.

Without waiting for a second knock, Casey slipped his hand over the Colt’s grip and treaded lightly over to the door. Bending his head, he squinted through the peephole and waited for the man to face forward.

“Who the hell ..?” Casey whispered when the man lifted his gaze towards the door. An illusion, but it was as if he knew the peephole was there. Not for the first time today, Casey wondered if he had ever made acquaintances with a man he didn’t recognize. Where did Liam scrape up such a smooth-looking dandy like this one?

“Doesn’t matter. Time to get rid of you,” he went on to himself. As soon as one hand opened the door, the other leveled the gun off, aiming squarely for the place between a pair of startled ocean blue eyes.

“Whoa! Easy there, big guy.”

“What the hell do you want?” Casey muttered as a greeting.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, jerking backwards and lifting his hands. “I’m just, ah, looking for someone.”

“You. Hurt me,” Casey repeated and rolled his eyes, because just the thought of it was audacious enough to make him want to waste a good bullet. “Mind telling me how you plan on doing that?”

Who was this twerp, anyway? The view down the muzzle gave Casey a glimpse of a young man he’d call astonishingly handsome if he wasn’t about to ruin that pretty face. Not to mention get blood on the crisp black morning coat and the scrolled embroidery on the grey silk vest. His perfectly coiffed dark hair was partially covered by a black derby hat, but Casey figured that was about to get mussed up as well.

“Well ... I ....” The young man looked him up and down and, seeing the dilemma, offered a placating smile. “I might’ve been hasty in my judgement,” he admitted.

“Good. Then get out of here before I’m hasty with this.” Casey nodded minutely at the gun in his hand.

“No. Wait.” The stranger put a foot out to stop the door from shutting on his face, confirming he had a death wish after all. “I’m looking for Chuck ... and I heard he might be here.”

Immediately, Casey’s grip on the gun tightened and leveled off again, making the man back up half a step. “I’m going to ask you again,” he demanded without moving his lips, “who the hell are you?”

“I’m his ... friend.” Pretty Boy tried to discreetly settle his hand on a six shooter Casey had already picked out in his vest, but Casey halted that move by shoving the Colt against his nose.

“Speak, idiot,” Casey said.

“Easy, okay.” The man raised his hands and gave him a sincere look. “You don’t know me. I’m Bryce. Bryce Larkin? And I want to know what you’ve done to Chuck.”

-x-

Two hours later, Devon still chuckled at the bewilderment in that guy’s face when he broke the news to the little would-be Romeo.

“You’re back again?” The roommate? After Chuck brushed him off last night, Devon hadn’t expected to see the dark-haired, neatly dressed ... okay, somewhat handsome man on his doorstep. He furrowed his forehead and looked past the unwanted visitor to the carriage in the street. A driver from the Beaulieu Grande waited.

“Ah, good morning,” the other man greeted. Ex-boyfriend? Who knew?

“Can I help you with something?”

The young man only smiled up at him and graciously removed his hat. The blue eyes were even more striking in broad daylight, clear as ice. “Um, the conversation ... ended rather poorly last night with my old friend and I,” he explained, flashing the smarmy smile Devon had witnessed before. “I thought we could patch things up this morning. Situations have a tendency to look differently in the daylight, don’t you think?”

Devon tilted his head. He had seen skulking fellows in his day, but this one just couldn’t take the word no. “Sorry, bro. But I’m afraid you missed your old chum. He’s not here.”

“Not here?” Bryce/Bruce/Whatever scanned past Devon’s shoulder. “Oh. Is he out back? In the workshop?”

“Not quite,” Devon said. Folding his arms over his chest, he decided there was only one way to get rid of this guy. “Your old roommate left last night ... with another man. I think they were headed over to his hotel room.” He purposely put meaning behind the smile and started to close the door. “Sorry you missed him, but I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“Wait,” Bryce said, frowning as he turned it over in his mind. “Do you know who he was?”

Bro, stalker-creepy. No wonder Chuck had to let him down. “Honestly? Never laid eyes on him before until last night,” Devon said. “I lose track of the kid’s ... friends. But this one was handsome. A real looker. Broad shoulders, kind of sharp features – oh, and guns.”

“Anything else?”

Devon leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb and sized up the Yankee with a smile. “Yeah, if he were a sack, he could fit two of you inside it.”

“Do you know ... which hotel they’re at?” Bryce asked, glaring sourly at him.

You’ve got to be kidding, Devon nearly sputtered. More drastic measures were in order, he guessed. Maybe there really was only one way to get rid of the lurker, and Devon had bets that John Casey would take care of him in his own way.

“He didn’t mention it,” the doctor drawled, using his finest Southern inflection. “But when they stepped outside to talk, I did overhear him say the Beaulieu Grande. You might be able to find them there, man.”

“It’s a big hotel. How do you expect me to do that?”

The doctor rolled his eyes and told him.

-x-

Devon put down his coffee cup and picked up his fountain pen, twisting it between his fingers. And no matter how hard he tried to focus on the medical log in front of him, his thoughts once again strayed.

It wasn’t like the kid not to talk to him, let him know where he was going, at least. Not required, but an unspoken courtesy between two people who happened to live under the same roof. Whatever Chuck was getting ready to say last night – and it sure seemed as if he was going to explain something – the kid disappeared like a puff of smoke right after Devon got back to the house.

Granted, it appeared he was quite ... eager to get his friend alone, but still. It was a bit rude. In the middle of the quagmire was the pesky ‘ex’ ... friend? Who lacked the ability to take a hint. Awfully strange.

On the other hand, Devon made a mental note to give Chuck a clap on the back the next time he saw him. Who knew his little bro, so seemingly shy and reserved, had the animal magnetism to draw in attractive men like flies to honey?

Maybe he’s a spitfire between the sheets.

Hell, what did I just think?

Not awesome.

Devon rolled his eyes at himself and flipped the page in his log, noting the symptoms he observed from Mr. Sanchez the day before while searching a page on germ theory in the British Medical Journal. “Everyone has an opinion,” he mumbled. “Part science, part art –”

A tap at the front door jolted him out of his thoughts.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Closing his eyes, Devon pushed two fingertips against his eyelids and let out a sigh. “This must be the difference between tenacity and stupidity.”

It was wrong for a doctor to even think it, but in the back of his mind, he hoped the big guy would beat the perfect smirk off the little dodger’s face for this.

“Time to nip it in the bud, bro,” Devon said under his breath. Putting the journals aside, he got up from the table and reached for the door knob. No amount of politeness was going to work, so he swung it open and pointed his sternest look at the pest, hoping that would do it. “Listen, man, I don’t know how to – oh.”

“Hey, ah ... hi there.”

Devon frowned and lowered his gaze another six inches in order to meet the eyes of the strange man on his stoop. “Oh, um, hello,” he said a little wary, “I guess I owe you an apology. I thought you were someone else.” He hesitated, trying to place the face, but no one came to mind. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes, I mean hopefully – do you live here?” the little guy asked.

Devon’s eyes shifted down to see what the peddler might be selling, but he had no wares that the doctor could see. “I answered the door, so that would be a yes, dude.”

“Oh, no, no, no, nothing like that.”

“What?”

“Dude? You said dude.” The odd fellow looked down sheepishly at his vest and trousers, which appeared as if they had spent some time in the bottom of a trunk. “I’m not a rancher. What? Do I look like a rancher? No one has ever told me that before. It’s the beard, right?”

“The beard?” Devon asked. He glanced down at it before he could stop himself. “Well, I -”

“Oh. Why am I here, you want to know. Well, I’m looking for someone.” The scruffy fellow bounced on one foot and then the other, maybe too shy to use the bushes when he couldn’t find a handy outhouse. “And I was told he lives here, man!”

“Are you sure you have the right place?”

“You are – oh, wait a minute, let me get it right –” Apparently, he’d lost something. The man nodded apologetically and dug through his pants pockets, front and back, then moved a hand up to his vest, patting himself down. Finally, he snatched a piece of paper from the inside pocket and flourished it with a wave. “Aha. Here we go ... Here. We. Go. Are you Dr. Devon Woodcomb?”

“That’s right,” Devon answered, “and who are you?”

“Then, yes, I’m in the right place.”

“You ... are?” When Devon’s eyes lingered over the excitable man, he took one distracting moment to wonder at how he had underestimated his roommate’s prowess. Knowing the kid all these months, the last thing he expected was that Chuck had the innocent act that nailed.

Whoa. That wasn’t all Chuck was nailing. Heck, in the past twelve hours, he was like the Goldilocks of Beaufort when it came to collecting men. Papa, mama ... and now baby-sized.

Only Devon got a sense the Papa Bear he met last night wasn’t going to like this. He didn’t seem like the sharing type.

“And you’re looking for ..?”

“Chuck Bartowski, man! Wait.” The little guy stilled, save for holding up a hand in a noteworthy gesture. “He didn’t tell you about me?”

“Uh, no?”

“No? Are you sure?” The man tapped a finger on his lip, contemplating ... something. “We are talking about the same Chuck Bartowski?”

“Not sure I even know what we’re talking about, bro.”

“Tall? Lanky of stature? A tiny birthmark on his – oh, and charming! Brimming with charm, you know?”

“Listen, dude, I’m not-”

“Ah, here, this will do it,” the bearded man interrupted, nudging Devon in the stomach. “He has a laugh – it’s a little, well – it’s –“ Fumbling to put the paper away, he cleared his throat and let out a higher pitched, breathy noise. “Just like that, man! Oh, his head might do this – and the sound is a sort of ‘ha, ha’ – see how I did that? With the little ..?”

“Can’t say I recognize that,” Devon lied, forcing himself not to go wide-eyed at such a dead on imitation. “Who did you say you were?”

“Oh! Morgan Grimes, proprietor of Morgan’s Mercantile, Kiowa County.” The short man affected a gracious bow. “The finest selection of dry goods and apothecaries west of ... well, Paducah. At your service.”

“Kiowa County?” Devon asked, curiosity piqued. Could the little guy clear up the mystery that hovered around his enigmatic roommate? “What part of Canada is that?”

“Canada?” Morgan chuckled until something occurred to him. “Wait. Do I look Canadian? Seriously, is this a Canadian outfit? Is it the vest? It’s the red, right? I knew it was a bit showy, man!”

Devon was about to open his mouth, thought about it, and instead just blinked stupidly at him. He was pretty sure there was an acceptable response that wouldn’t offend an entire legion of peace-loving folks to the north, but he wasn’t certain what it was.

He was saved from answering when Morgan noticed the puzzled look. “He didn’t tell you the truth, did he?”

“The truth?”

“No, of course he didn’t. Never mind all of that.” Morgan put a fist over his heart, looking as solemn as a preacher. “The important thing is I’m here now.”

“So, he’s not from Canada?” Devon slanted a look past his shoulder and frowned at the house he shared with a man he didn’t know at all. “Figures. Always had a sense the kid was trying to get away from something.”

“Well, before you pass sentence, man, there’s one thing you need to know about my buddy.” Adoration gleamed when Morgan lifted a hand, palm flat. “If he didn’t tell you, he had his reasons. No matter how much you don’t understand him, Chuck Bartowski has a good heart. And he’ll always have your back. Always be there for you. Like ... shoes and socks. Needle and thread. Oh, here’s one way cooler: the Younger brothers to Jessie James.”

“Aren’t those killer outlaws, bro?”

“Okay, bad example.” Morgan waved that away with an embarrassed smile. “But tell me you can’t deny he’s a loyal friend.”

Devon nodded at the little man for being right about one thing, at least. “Kiowa, huh?”

“Colorado, man.”

Devon stood up straight, the information giving him a little surge of excitement. “So Chuck’s from Colorado?”

“Ah, that would be a no.”

“This will make sense at some point?” Devon asked. He could only hope.

“Chuck’s originally from Boston, that much I know,” Morgan explained, cocky for a man five foot four. “He went to Harvard –”

“Knew he was some kind of genius –”

“- and doesn’t like to talk about his family. Oh!” Suddenly, as if he remembered something vastly important, Morgan drew a letter from his vest and held it up. “Except his sister, Ellie. I found this among his things. Not that I was snooping. It’s a letter from her.”

“What’s it say?”

“Man, now that is snooping.” Morgan shoved it back in his vest before he inclined his head at Devon. “Um, who did you say you are again? You ... live here ... with Chuck?” One of his brows slowly lifted. “And you are his ... friend?”

“Yes ..? Oh – wait.” It was a beat too late when the meaning of Morgan’s raised brow hit him. “He’s, ah - no. I mean, yes, he’s my friend, but we, ah, he rents a room from me.”

I like women. He seems to like men.

And being that two bachelors (they’ve been called good-looking) living together and chasing the same senoritas could get messy, Devon had come to see it as a mutually beneficial arrangement.

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan tucked the letter back into his vest. “Ah. I see ....”

He knows? Devon eyed the shorter man with keener interest. They had to be talking about the same Chuck. How else would this little guy be aware of that super-secret?

“It seems that you’ve come a long way to visit your friend,” Devon said, deciding Morgan wasn’t like the other too-handsome chap with the untrustworthy smile. “I hate to break the news to you, but he’s not here.”

“Not here? Are you sure?”

“That’s what I said, bro.” Devon took in Morgan’s deflated look. Maybe the little guy could help shed some light. “He, uh, didn’t come home last night. Any idea where he could be?”

“No? Wow.” Morgan shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Chuck. Every Monday he showed up at the store ... well, until four months ago.” Shoulders sagging with the news, he turned around to stare down the road, left then right. “Do you know when he’ll be back? Did he leave a note? He likes to leave notes. Boy, did I find that out the hard way.”

“No, he ... seemed –” Like he was too busy getting groped up? “Er, to be honest, Chuck was a bit preoccupied with ... something. You know how that gets?”

“Sure, man, he gets a little ....” Morgan trailed off, completely mesmerized by an elegant Brewster carriage slowing down in the street. “Wait a second .... Hello. Who is that?”

“Who?”

“Oh, trust me, you would know if you’ve ever seen that one before.”

“Just another carriage,” Devon observed, stopping briefly to rub the side of his face. “But, now that you mention it, it is ridiculous how many beautiful, eligible women need to shop at the mercantile across the street right about the time I leave for my rounds in the morning.”

“Uh-huh. Sure it is.” Morgan hurriedly finger-combed his hair and wet his thumb, running it over each brow in a practiced move. “I get a feeling this one isn’t shopping for dresses. She waved at the driver to stop when she saw us.”

Unfazed, Devon barely gave the buggy a passing glance. Not to be crass, but he was accustomed to women throwing themselves in the path of his horses. More amusing were the unlucky ones who threw their smiles at his ‘adorable’ roommate.

“What are you talking about, bro? I don’t recognize that carriage.”

“Whatever, she’s climbing out to see us,” Morgan said, smoothing his shirt.

“I’m sure she’s just – oh.” Then, and only then, did he get a full look at the young lady. As far as he could tell, he had never laid eyes on the woman, tastefully attired in a deep burgundy riding jacket, narrow skirt, and a flat-topped hat with an ivory ribbon fluttering in the breeze.

Morgan was right about one thing. Walking with her chin high, accentuating her perfect cheek bones, she was headed right for them.

-x-

Maybe it was the way he smiled when he repeated his name.

Maybe it the perfect hair, trim jacket and neatly-pressed tan pants, or the boots without so much as a scuff mark.

Or maybe it was that he had signed his own death certificate the night Casey heard the story. Something about Chuck’s virginity being poached by an unworthy piece of shit named Bryce Larkin.

At any rate, before that little twit could so much as jerk his fingers closer to the handle of his silver six shooter, Casey’s brain just seemed to click.

“You’re Bryce ...Larkin,” Casey repeated in an almost normal voice.

“Well ... yeah.” Bryce squinted up at him. “Do I know you?”

Casey had heard enough. He grabbed Bryce by the jacket’s unwrinkled lapel and hauled. “Let’s go.” Yanking the little turd into the hotel room, Casey tossed him up against the door and spun the cylinder of the Colt, hearing the whir and soft clack of metal. Locked and loaded.

Admittedly, he did it for the cocksucker’s benefit, satisfied to see those sky blue eyes startle wide. “Hey! Hang on,” Bryce demanded. “Who are you?”

“No time to explain.” Casey’s thumb drew down on the hammer, already pressing the muzzle directly under Pretty Boy’s smooth chin so that he’d be able to feel it there, cold and hard, before he felt anything else.

“Hey, what are you doing – ow!”

Feeling the man begin to squirm, Casey put an end to that by leaning his big body into him, shoving his boots straight up against the other man’s in order to trap his feet. “Going somewhere?”

Bryce’s eyes darkened, his lips thinning. “Do I know you?”

“Yes and no.” Casey jabbed the tip of the barrel a bit harder, forcing Bryce’s head up to meet his eyes. “And while you’re trying to figure it out, shut the fuck up.”

“Is that loaded?”

“Let’s find out,” Casey said. “If you don’t hear a gunshot, that could mean it’s not. Or it could mean your ears aren’t working anymore because your head’s exploded like a pumpkin. Wanna take bets?”

“Easy, big man, whoever you are, I’m sure we can negotiate an understanding.” Bryce attempted to sound calm. He wasn’t fooling anyone. With his arm flat against his chest, the larger man could feel Bryce’s heart hammering, his breath picking up. “Answer the question,” the idiot said. “Who are you?”

“Do I have to stuff the gun up your nose again to get you to shut up?”

Bryce looked around the room, just his eyes moving, and wet his lips. “Okay, that’s it. If you don’t move your gun, sir, I’m going to -”

“Scream,” Casey growled, “and your brains are going to paint the inside of this fancy hotel room’s door.” He purposely drew his regard over the top of Bryce’s head. “Ever paint with brains before? Let me give you a hint. Messy ... though in this case, it’d be rightly gratifying.”

“Let’s just be reasonable, okay?” Bryce tried to jerk out Casey’s grip, only to clobber his head against the door. “Ah – ow. You know, I should probably leave.”

“Yeah, and I was about to help you with that,” Casey said, pulling back on the trigger. “’Course, not the way you’re hoping. Say goodbye, moron.”

“Seriously, what kind of a man shoots another without even telling him why?” Bryce did sound genuinely confused as he tried to wriggle out from Casey’s forearm. “I’ve never welched on a bet, or – or betrayed anyone! You may not realize this, but my family is one of the Connecticut Larkins -”

“So does shut the fuck up mean something different in Connecticut?” Casey asked. In case it did, he gave Bryce a good shake, hoping a baser yet universal language alleviated the doubt. “Huh. Bryce Fucking Larkin. Didn’t expect this turn of luck on a day like today.”

“Sorry,” Bryce said stiffly, “but I don’t consider it lucky.”

“Meant for me.” Casey’s eyebrows drew close together as he took a moment to examine his prey. “Jesus Christ, cupcake, I know you’re naïve as hell, but how did you fall for this shmuck?”

“Cupcake? Listen, I don’t know you think you are -”

“Not you, asshole,” Casey grunted at Bryce’s stupidity. “Funny, all this time I swore I’d be the one to have to come looking for you, and here you just show up at the door.”

“I lied,” Bryce said, glowering. “Is that what you want me to say?”

Now this wasn’t a tact Casey expected. He sighed and drove the gun into the soft skin of his throat, pale white as the collar of his starched shirt. “Yeah? About what?”

“I do know who you are.” Bryce held his gaze steady, not flinching. In the back of his mind, Casey had to give the ass hat a half ounce of credit. Most men would’ve peed their fine linen trousers by now. “You’re John Casey, aren’t you?”

Casey stilled, his trigger finger half-bent. Who else knew he was here? “Don’t even think of giving me some bullshit line about the kid emptying his soul to you last night when you waylaid him in the barn.” He snatched the gun up to his nose again and pressed in. “Chuck did not tell you about me.”

“No, but his roommate did. Ow!”

So he had paid a visit to blabbermouth Woodcomb. Great.

“His only living roommate,” Casey said, actually pretending to check the mantle clock. “Oh, wait. That’s two minutes from now.”

Bryce swallowed. “So, let me guess. Chuck told you a few things about me.”

“How you fucked him over? Literally?” Casey’s scowl was pure gunpowder by now. The muzzle sunk deeper until Bryce’s perfect nose was flattened. “Yeah, he might’ve mentioned it .... ”

“I can’t explain if I can’t t-talk. ow, ow, ow.”

“And I can’t wait to hear it.” Casey used his other hand to pull him up by the scruff of the neck, making him stand on his toes. “Gives me the justification to pull the trigger.”

“Listen,” Bryce began, his pretty boy face turning a nice shade of purple, “You can’t do this –”

“That’s your argument? Heh.” Casey clenched his fist into the jacket and pulled him into the center of the room. Bryce shot him a perturbed look at the rough treatment, as if he deserved an apology. Maybe Casey would give him one while he was sweeping up body parts. “Over here, numb nuts. Easier to toss your body out the side window when I’m done. Good news. Saw the perfect back alley.”

“That’s thoughtful, really,” Bryce observed, his tone brittle. “Now let go of me – ow!”

“Let go?” Casey only twisted the jacket harder, making the fabric dig into his throat. “Better?”

“I can’t breathe!”

“And I’ve heard enough. Say good-bye, Larkin – unless you can grow wings?” Casey gave a fleeting look over at the window. “Yeah. In fact ... not my usual point and shoot method, but I’m willing to make special arrangements for a piece of shit like you. Ever see a man’s body after a thirty foot drop?”

“You w-wouldn’t dare!” Bryce stuttered. The flicker of desperation in his eyes was a nice touch. So was the way Bryce twisted his body, feet gaining no purchase as he tried to dig in and pull backwards. “You can’t just – just heave me out the window and leave my body there!”

“Can’t?” Casey snorted and showed him he could by dragging him to the open window. “Not only will I shove your ass out there, leave your body there, but you know what else I’ll do?”

“Please, Mr. Casey, you have to listen to me – I have money – well, my family has money, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m going to the dining room and have a breakfast,” Casey explained. “I’m thinking pancakes.”

“You – you can’t kill a man and eat pancakes!”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll have the bellhop pack your bags for you, too.” With his hand bunched up in Bryce’s jacket, Casey whipped him around and bent Bryce over the window frame, making him stare up into his eyes. It was the closest he could get to dangling Bryce without dropping just yet. “On second thought, let’s turn you around. You’ll get a nice view all the way down, eh?”

“You can’t!”

“Watch me,” Casey said, spinning him around. Under his hands, he felt Bryce tense as he loosened a few fingers, ready to drop -

“Wait - gah! If you don’t let me help you, you’re – you’re never going to get Chuck back alive!”

Bryce’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere in the room, but it jolted Casey a millisecond before his fist unclenched. “Chuck?” Casey spun him back around, his eyes peeling back the perfectly chiseled face. “What did you just say?”

“Um, you have to pull me up if you want to know.”

Casey thought about it. “Nah. My way instead.” He put his body weight against the smaller man, and now Bryce dangled with his back facing the ground. “Let’s try this again. What do you know about Chuck?”

“Ouch ... ah, okay, okay.” Bryce turned his head to the side and nodded past Casey’s shoulder. “I know that since he’s not here ... if you’re telling the truth –”

“Maybe I’m hiding him under the bed?” Casey sneered, letting him drop another six inches. Bryce’s hat tumbled off his head. They both heard it hit the ground with a distant thunk a few seconds later.

“Okay! He’s not here - and I know that means he’s in danger.” Bryce took a deep breath. Just as he let it out, the louse showed one split second of regret before his jaw firmed. “I ... might have put him in danger.”

“This isn’t a compelling argument not to kill you, dumb ass.”

“Yeah, well maybe this is,” Bryce said, and he looked as resolute as a man suspended from a window could manage. “I’m sorry this is happening to him. If you’ll let me, I’ll help. You need me.”

Casey rolled his eyes. His hand moved up to tighten around Bryce’s throat, squeezing until his eyes bulged. “Tell me what you know.”

“Haaaa ...aaaa. Aaair ....”

Casey stuck his chin out, thoughtfully considering the plea. He did have a point. Speaking was mighty tough without the intake of oxygen. After careful deliberation, Casey loosened his thumb and forefinger from Bryce’s throat enough for the squirrel to suck in a breath. “Get in here, numb nuts,” he ordered, yanking him back over the windowsill. “Don’t move.”

Bryce did it anyway by putting his hands on his knees and coughing, a deep wracking noise. When he could raise his head, blue eyes glared into blue eyes, shooting sparks in all directions.

“I’m going to ask you again. Nicely,” Casey said, gritting out his words between his teeth. “What do you know?”

“Only this,” Bryce managed to rasp. “You have no hope of getting him back if you think you’re going to do it alone. And I think Chuck ... being alive is more important to you than me being dead.”

x- End Chapter Four Where the Road Ends-x-


	5. Chapter Five

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Five

-x-

It happened all too often of late. The way his faults were the first thoughts that ever woke him.

Sometimes metamorphic. Sometimes, it was the stupid little things. Like this morning. The lower housing for the drive propellers, fixed to the braces like that? Had to be the worst design he’d ever brought to life as a tangible, immovable part of the machine.

Everything hurt. How many times would he need to conk his head on that rather sturdy apparatus to know not to do it anymore? Or at the least, be a little more careful when he was flat on his back under the flying machine fiddling with the damn the thing.

Why did he have to keep doing that?

He tried to take in a breath – the workshop was like laying on a hot stove – but it got caught at his dry lips and it never filled him in the way he needed it to. Wasn’t he under the plane?

No, Chuck realized. If he had finally managed to knock himself out cold – the first time it didn’t count since it involved a beefy black spider caught in the fuselage – his shoulders would be in the hard-packed dirt under the plane. Not here ... wherever that was.

A thought began to claw, long-tentacled and sure, from the murkier parts of his mind. It dug in, pulled itself to the part of his brain that brought awareness.

He had no recollection beyond standing in the back yard, leaning against the fence ... being held there by a warm terrain of muscle, shifting under a damp cotton shirt. Be still and let me touch you, he seemed to say. I just want you to let me take care of you ....

Maybe it felt so real because he wanted it so much. Those hands touching his face. Strong yet gentle, stroking his hair, moving down to rub his stomach in small circles, hip brushing the inside of his thigh....

Something trickled through Chuck.

He remembered it.

When Casey’s fingers caressed his back, hooked onto his jeans to grip him tighter, Chuck had felt the suffering of the past four months slide away. It wasn’t a teasing fantasy, his breath was there against his throat last night, his body pressed against his. Everything was hard and real, lips nuzzling, the words he spoke. They held each other hard, afraid to let go this time....

So where the hell was he?

Somewhere nearby, a cicada buzzed, the weak, end of season droning that promised the heat before midday. As if the kid needed a reminder of the hot, stuffy air against his skin, knowing it was going to get worse. It already felt like a suffocating wool blanket placed over his face.

A rooster joined into the fracas, crowing so loudly that it put a spike through his brain. Hearing it, alarm shot through him, increasing the fiery sensation.

He was alone here. Casey did let go.

But why?

I didn’t, Casey’s voice whispered. Wake up.

It hurts, Chuck answered to the voice. He forced himself to open one eye to a slit, the only thing he felt capable of doing without pain.

“Oph ....” Well, he was wrong about that, too. The slicing ache pinged him in the back of the head. He settled on groaning. He was not in control of his voice. Only a muffled sound escaped.

Oh, this is not good.

One thing stopped him from yelling. A gag, a piece of cloth stuffed between his teeth that smelled like a wet dog, probably had a lot to do with that.

Concentrating, a hundred sensations flooded in – stiffness, immobility, voices, dim light, the soft clop of horse hooves.

Where was he? What did he remember?

God, Casey didn’t do this.

Did he? Without elaborating, Casey had just told him that they would need to run again. And granted, his boyfriend seemed to have a nasty habit of going to extremes in the name of protecting Chuck. (A habit that they really needed to have a serious talk about at some point when they weren’t on the run or busy being dead.)

Hear that, Casey? Even if his lover intended to save the kid from his own sometimes misguided judgement, it didn’t give him the right to just knock him out and tote him away like a stray calf from a herd.

But was it Casey’s fault his arms were at a weird angle behind his back? Wait. Tied up? His boyfriend was a crazy son of a bitch. However, at that, he’d draw the line.

Then what was it?

An ‘oh, crap’ he couldn’t say aloud filled his head. The greasy, awful mother-of-all realizations brought goosebumps skittering over Chuck’s bare flesh.

Because when he dared to let go of unconsciousness, he wasn’t going to be looking at the bottom of his flying machine, or into a pair of blue eyes attached to a stubborn face.

It was then the kid blurrily began to recall that real trouble had found him.

A strange man was in the shed last night. No, two. The goon with the pasty face, he saw. That was the man who did the talking. Another one ... was behind him.

Voices coming from another room, deep and unintelligible, brought him back. Chuck opened his eyes, and immediately regretted that when it drove the nail deeper into the back of his head.

“Shifff – oucf.” Wriggling his arms, the kid blinked and fought off the pain, trying to figure out where the hell he was. Okay, he was right about being flat on his back, wrong about everything else.

A low-beamed ceiling came into focus. The room was tiny, only a bed and an old pine washstand along one wall. A single window was over his head, covered with a gingham checked curtain. Daylight leaked around the swath of fabric, bathing the room in a faint light. The fact that it kept any air from flowing was his first concern. It made the room a hotbox.

Have I been here before?

“... gave him ... was he ... instructions ....” a voice seemed to be asking from somewhere.

“... exactly as you wanted ... payment ..?”

Chuck turned his head to the side and tipped his chin towards a door. “Ohph ....” he muttered. Every movement pounded viciously against his temple, making him want to throw up or curl up and die. Maybe both. Shifting his shoulders did confirm one thing, at least. As he guessed, that was rope cutting into his wrists behind his back.

Great. Where am I?

The gag shoved in his mouth wasn’t the only thing with a bad odor. The quilt he had been thrown on at some point last night had collected a musty scent, a combination of mildew and sweat. Glancing down made him catch sight of one other fact. Somewhere between here and there, no one had bothered to give him a shirt. Being half-naked bothered him. More troubling was that strange hands had to have touched him while he was knocked out, and that just gave him the jeebies.

When Chuck tipped his head down – ouch, my God! - he saw that his boots were missing as well, though he wasn’t quite sure he was even wearing them before he was taken. At least the hoot owls were kind enough to leave him with the dirty blue jeans he wore. Now, the piece of rope tied around one of his ankles to the footboard? He knew he wasn’t wearing that last night.

The kid wanted to roll his eyes. Was it really necessary? Maybe they, whoever they were, thought he was an acrobatic circus performer or something.

It did prove that the men who found him really didn’t want to lose him this time, and that was the most terrifying fact of all.

“... when will he ... today?”

“This afternoon ... wants to see him.”

Chuck breathed out hard around the gag, tightening his fists to keep his nerves steady. He was still dizzy from the knock to his head, and fear was making his heart jackrabbit against his chest.

Maybe it was his imagination – or his most dreaded fear – but Chuck swore he recognized at least one of those voices.

Assuming Casey – and yep, that was definitely an assumption that his boyfriend would come bursting through the door, guns smoking – was not the other voice, Chuck guessed he was about to come face to face with the last man on earth he wanted to see. Well, he could be second to last, depending on how he felt about his own father in any given moment.

Oh, crap. Please, God. No panic attacks now.

Honestly, if he did start getting sucked into the swell of one, the kid wasn’t certain how breathing would even work with the gag in his mouth. Hell, it was almost impossible to fill his lungs on a ‘normal’ day when one of the bouts decided it was time to smack him around.

“... what he wants?”

Though every movement made his arms scream, Chuck managed to lift his head to fight his way upward, craning around so that he could better hear the muffled conversation.

“No, but he’s willing to pay a fortune – not him ... something else.”

Pull your head out of your ass, a gruff voice ordered, coming from somewhere between his own ears. Look around for clues. Better yet, get busy figuring out how to free yourself.

How? What was he supposed to do?

“A fortune ... tsk. Now I wonder what has caused such interest?” the deeper voice said. His captor did nothing to hold back the mock concern as he approached the door. “Something tells me our boy might just know a story or two about that. Wonder what it would take to get his tongue loosened?”

If Chuck wasn’t busy trying to keep any last contents of his stomach down, he’d be impressed with himself for recognizing the hard brogue accent after all these months.

Instead, the kid lowered his head and closed his eyes briefly, wincing. There was still hope, right? Maybe this was just the unconventional nightmare that crossed the line with a dose of too much realism. Maybe he’d wake up to feel his boyfriend lie down and firmly gather him in next to the heat of his long, hard body.

When he heard the hinges scrape and the door swing open, Chuck stretched slightly on his back, digging his fingers into the blanket to quell his discomfort. Seeing no sense in delaying the inevitable, the kid then let his eyes drift open, focus on the large figure entering the room.

“You’re awake now, boyo?” the man said. His mouth twitched into what should’ve been a smile. It brought to mind a shark. Only this one was attired in a well-tailored white shirt, a few buttons undone. A brown tweed vest was also unbuttoned, giving Chuck a view into the holster he wore around his ribcage. He sat down in a simple wooden chair next to the bed, the shirt stretching taut around his broad shoulders. At first he hunched over to get a good look at him look before he sat back, the chair creaking under his weight. “I should ask how your head is feeling, but to be honest, I don’t give a shit.”

Belatedly, Chuck found out it was a bad idea to draw his brows together in a scowl. Any movement of his head made the goose egg back there sing.

“Accommodations don’t suit you? I’m sure you understand why we had to ... insist on the rather rough treatment to get you away from him. No hard feelings, right, boy?” As the man stared at him, the smile faded. “I have to say ... it’s so nice of you to join us again.”

Chuck kept his gaze steady on the man’s face, praying he wasn’t dripping with sweat and openly trembling. For a few hours last night, he thought fate might be done beating him with a heavy mallet, but he was wrong about that.

His luck hadn’t changed a bit.

-x-

If there was ever a time Casey wanted to ease a problem out of his life by simply giving it a good goddamn shove out an open window, this was it.

He grunted at the rasping twit. “You really think that’s enough to save you?”

“But –”

“Come here,” Casey said, and paying no mind to Bryce’s startled eyes, a huge hand swung out, grabbed him by the collar, and returned the smaller man to his perch on the windowsill. To be all precise-like, it wasn’t a perch since Bryce had only the backs of his knees clamped to the window’s ledge and nothing to hang onto, but Casey wasn’t about to quibble over the details. “Sprout those wings yet, twerp?”

“Hey!” Flailing his arms, Bryce made the mistake of looking down. “I thought we were making progress!”

“Before you utter one more word, you need to know this: I want you dead awfully damn bad.”

“I – I don’t think I can negotiate from this position.”

“How did you put him in danger?” Casey demanded, giving Bryce’s neck a little shake.

“Ah, okay, okay – just bring me back in!”

“Answer me, or I put an end to this game by dropping your ass right now.”

“It – ah – might have something to do with his father.” For one thrumming moment, Bryce just stared at him, maybe hoping that was enough.

It wasn’t. Casey conveyed that by twisting his collar, the fabric cutting into the flesh of the imbecile’s neck. Bryce obviously knew more than that, but the larger man highly doubted it had anything to do with the person who currently had Chuck in his possession. “Is the kid’s father here?”

Swallowing with difficultly, Bryce struggled with a reply that wouldn’t get him killed. Finally, he lifted his chin, resigned to it. “Yes. He’s here ... in town. Mr. Adams wants his son back. You can’t blame a man for that, can you?”

His son? Casey nearly scoffed. Had to be the thing the kid called the Cipher.

“Yeah, it makes me all soft inside just thinking of the cotton candy reunion,” Casey spat out. Pausing, he examined the other man’s face closely, searching for the lie. What did Bryce know about the kid’s secret? Was he just sent as the retriever, or had he heard the wild tales?

Immediately, Casey chastised himself for letting those words sail through his head, but it was nearly impossible for a man to grasp seeing fire on the ground for no reason, or understand why he was suddenly soaked to the skin on with no logical explanation. Worse, Chuck hinted at so much more; a hawk bursting into flames midflight, predictions and visions –

But did Bryce know?

“What is he offering you to do it?” Casey asked. He liked to think his face always routed to the same baseline, a carefully blank expression he adopted when concealing a strong emotion. But he couldn’t be more pissed off at what he knew he was about to hear. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this out of righteousness. Uniting a family again or some shit like that. Is it just money?”

“You make it sound crass – ow- please stop.”

“Was it about the money?” Casey growled.

Bryce nodded, confirming the suspicion. “He’s made me an offer, yes. Ow!”

“How much does it take these days to fuck over your ex-best friend?”

Bryce remained tightlipped and looked off to the side.

Casey shook his head and lifted him until the little jerk wad’s knees lost their hold on the window’s edge. “You sure that’s your answer?”

“Ah! Will you stop it! Five thousand, okay? Bring me back in! You need me!”

Casey let him hang there like a shirt on a clothesline while he chewed the inside of his mouth a minute. It took everything not to let go, but he resorted to swearing huskily in Gaelic and shaking him until his head bobbed. He had been foolish, not taking the kid last night, and god damn Bryce to hell for being right – but it would be reckless to go in alone.

“You do realize,” Casey said, nodding downwards, “there is only one way you’re going to make it out of here alive, don’t you?”

Bryce seemed to realize he was in no position to be picky. “How?”

“You tell me everything you know. Everyone his father has been in contact with since he came into town.” If Liam and daddy were in cahoots, he needed that bit of intelligence. “Everywhere they’ve been. What they’re thinking.” And the next words out of his mouth were going to kill him, but there was no other way. “You do all of that ... do exactly what I say to help bring him back, and I might think about letting you smear the ground you walk on for a little longer.”

“It’s ... it’s a deal,” Bryce agreed quickly, letting out a breath. “Do you mind? It’s not exactly the best view of the back alley from here.”

Casey strung him out a little longer, forcing Bryce to think of his current predicament and how easily he could change his mind. “Get in here, numb nuts,” he finally said, and pulled the smaller man inside the room. The tan jacket was released, leaving a wrinkle where Casey’s fist was three shakes ago. “Try anything stupid and kiss your own ass goodbye.”

Bryce’s elbow struck the dresser as he was roughly shoved across the room. He took a second to rub his abused arm, giving Casey a dirty look. “Geez, thanks. Now what?”

“Give me your gun.”

“I ... don’t have a gun,” Bryce said, mustering up an honest look.

“Let’s try this again.” The whipping sound from Casey’s side coupled with a sudden flash of silver pressed to Bryce’s forehead made the little turd jump. “Give me ... your gun.”

“Okay, okay ... easy.” Bryce lifted his hands, palms flat before reaching slowly into his jacket. “Here. I’ll get it.”

As soon as he held it out, Casey swiped it from his hand and spun the chamber. Christ, what a fucking girly-gun this was. “First rule,” he said, pouring the bullets into his big palm, “don’t you dare lie to me. That was your first and only warning. Got that?”

“Yes, I got it,” Bryce said, scowling as Casey stuffed the bullets into his pocket. “If you don’t mind me asking, where on earth did a man like Charles Adams the Third –”

“Bartowski. Adams is dead now.”

“Bartowski?” Bryce gave him a puzzled look, but eventually shrugged. “Okay, Bartowski meet a man like you?”

Casey squinted at him before handing him the empty gun. “Got a problem with me, princess?”

“No offense, but trust me when I say you’re the last type of man he would ever ... join up with in a long term ... arrangement.”

“Thanks,” Casey said with some sarcasm. “But I already know the type of man he’s willing to take up with.” And because he couldn’t help himself, Casey arched a brow and smirked at Bryce’s bewildered expression. “Quite intimately, too.”

“You’re lying,” Bryce said. His eyes coursed over him. “Who the hell are you, anyway, John Casey?”

Casey focused on rounding up spare cartridges for the Colt, mulling it over, before looking over at him. “Do I surprise you, Casanova? You think perhaps I’m a little too rough around the edges for your ... roommate? Dirty as the devil himself?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Casey grunted and snapped his revolver in a quicksilver motion up to Bryce’s cheek again. As soon as he did, Bryce jolted, and Casey watched him levelly before he slid it back into its pouch. “Heh. You might just be right about that. When it comes to anyone else, and especially to that kid’s safety, I’ll empty a chamber into a man before the cat can jump.”

“Well, thank you for the head’s up,” Bryce deadpanned.

“And if you decide to do something that makes you no longer useful to me ....” Casey trailed off, letting Bryce consider the dozen ways he’d like to end that thought.

“Fine. Message received,” Bryce huffed.

“So where’s dear old dad?”

“Here at the hotel, actually.”

“Keeping a low profile, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Bryce assured him. “He just arrived as well ... yesterday.”

“He hired you?”

“Well – ah, we have exchanged a few telegrams ....”

Casey lifted a brow.

“Okay, yes,” Bryce admitted, running a hand through his hair. “He ... hired me.”

“Who else is working with him?”

“Just a few ... cronies from what I can tell. They tried to tail me yesterday.”

“Managed to ditch them?” Casey asked.

“Yes. They have no idea where Chuck ... was.” Bryce had purposely emphasized the final word in an attempt to fish for information, Casey figured. “But I have a feeling you know more than all of us now. He’s in danger ... and that’s why you need my help.”

“I need a warm body to divert them,” Casey told him, sizing Bryce up. “It doesn’t have to be you. Best keep that in mind, kid.”

“Point taken,” Bryce said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Good.” Casey was already stuffing a spare knife in his boot, making Bryce really eyeball him. “Now whoever the fuck you think you are to him, this is where you listen to me. We’re going to be outnumbered when we go in there.”

“Do I get my bullets back?”

“Only if it looks like someone is getting ready to shoot you.”

“What if it’s too late to give me the bullets?”

Casey’s bored perusal ended when he lifted his shoulder. “Then you get shot.”

“You really hate me, don’t you?” Bryce observed, perturbed as he stuffed his empty gun away.

“You really went to Harvard, ace?”

Bryce’s lips firmed. “Whatever Chuck told you about me, you should know that I –”

His argument was cut off by a sharp knock on the hotel room door. It was a lucky break for the dumb ass, Casey reckoned, because if he finished where he was headed, Casey was prepared to shoot him prematurely and take his chances completely outnumbered.

“Are you expecting someone?” Bryce asked.

“Quiet,” Casey mouthed to him, silently slipping his gun out of the holster again. Casting a look of warning at the other man, he held up one finger. Wait.

Bryce held out his hands, shaking his head. A combination of ‘what did I do?’ followed by ‘like hell I will.’

If Casey had a strategy at this juncture, he’d really rethink bringing this little asshole into the plan. “Stay put.”

There was a moment’s silence, then another knock. Whoever stood there couldn’t take a hint. That alone was enough for Casey to stalk away from the dresser where he had Bryce pretty much cornered and cross over to the door.

Casey lowered his head to scope out the peephole he had drilled the day before, but stopped when he felt Bryce’s sleeve brush against his shirt. “Was there some part of stay that was confusing to you, dimwit? Get over there.” He motioned with the muzzle, not breaking eye contact until Bryce stepped over to the place Casey had ordered. “Now try it again. Fucking stay.”

Bryce sent over a disapproving look, but Casey ignored him. He’d resumed his stance at the door and peered through the hole. Out in the hallway stood the tall, blond doctor – or another way to think of it, up until last night the man shacking up with his boyfriend. Casey, making yet another mental note to sort that mess out, searched him up and down the best he could, noticed the way he shifted on his feet, brows furrowed. Restlessness or nerves, due to the fact his friend failed to show up at home last night.

The mood was justified, but Casey had to wonder if it had anything to do with the two other people, one much shorter, who suddenly pulled up next to him.

“Are you sure this is the room?” a man asked.

“236, according to the desk clerk,” Devon replied.

“Hellooo? Are you in there?” the shorter man nearly shouted, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Casey narrowed his eyes, studied the man’s face. It only took a split second to place him. Jesus Christ. Very few things caught John Casey by surprise anymore, but he had to bring up his hand to rub a few fingers over his eyelids. He had just gotten a glimpse of a dark, neat beard and an idiot-looking face. No way in hell was that the shopkeeper from Kiowa.

“It’s me, Morgan Grimes!” the little dwarf busted out. “Chuck, your best buddy! The doctor said you’re in there with ... well, I get it man, everyone has needs. I told you a long time ago I was okay with it. Honestly. Open up, man!”

Son of a bitch.

Casey glanced over his shoulder to check on Bryce, who had tilted his head, listening with a confused expression. “Who?” he mouthed.

“Shut up,” Casey mouthed back at him. Heaving a breath, he lowered his eye to the peephole again. It cleared up one mystery, but there was still another. A woman stood off to the side, and though only her straw hat with a wide ivory ribbon was visible, Casey was certain he didn’t know a piece of calico as highfaluting as this one seemed to be.

Let’s get the greetings over and done, he thought. One more menacing look at Bryce to ensure he stayed out of it, Casey swung the door open and purposely stepped forward. His big body filled the doorframe.

“What the f-uh ... do you want?” he asked, stopping himself from saying exactly what he felt when he caught a glimpse of the young lady’s pale face, clear hazel eyes. They held something familiar, a swirl from the same batch of chocolate. “Get out of here.”

Devon shot a mortified look at the woman, put his hands up, and attempted to slide between them. “I couldn’t stop her, bro. I tried to, honest, but she can be pretty persuasive. She made me bring her here.”

“Yeah?” Casey swiveled his squint down to her, giving up on manners. “And who the hell are you?”

Instead of backing away, as Casey expected her to do when faced with a man who had been told he could be intimidating, she lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. “I’m Eleanor Faye Adams. Chuck’s sister,” she said. Assessing Casey’s scruffy appearance, her pale skin flushed slightly in embarrassment. “I understand you ... may have him here, and whatever you’ve done with him ... I want him back.”

-x-

Thinking perhaps if he looked away the man would simply rise with boredom and leave him, better yet vanish, Chuck closed his eyes for an instant and let out a puff of air through his nose. Breathe, don’t do it ... don’t panic ....

The mantra didn’t help. He took another tack by balling his hands beneath him, overcome by the revelation of being in a confined space with a deadly rattler.

“You’re surprised to see me. I don’t know why.” Liam was still there when he opened his eyes, still sitting, head bowed towards him in deep thought. “You really aren’t as smart as they say, perhaps? It would seem a boy genius would know that the article would send the cloud of bees to the honey.” He sighed, and smiled ruefully down at him. “Sent them in a swarm, didn’t it, boyo? Buzzing and swirling ... and all after you ... though, I can’t quite understand all of the reasons. Not yet anyway. I assure you, though, that will come.”

Chuck forced himself to keep breathing around the gag, his nostrils flaring, squeezing in air past the gross cloth. He couldn’t push it away. Despair dragged at him like a whip around his belly, pulling him down. Battling that, he shut his eyes and retreated to some dim place within. Safe, where there was nothing but aching grey blankness, and where the sound of Liam’s taunting voice couldn’t get him.

“That’s your answer?” Liam’s hand flashed out, slapped his face. The sting and shock reverberated between the two of them. “You’ll be paying attention to me from here on out, boy, or it’ll be worse for you than that little tap to the face.”

In the midst of a long, frozen moment, something shuddered up from the kid’s gut. Something that felt a lot like bravery. He grappled for it and, ignoring his throbbing cheek, turned his dark eyes up to glower at him. Steady breaths, steady, he told himself. Liam will only measure his enjoyment by the suffering.

“Aye, that’s better,” Liam said, moving to place his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Now, we both know what it is that I’m after, what drew me to this place, laddie. All these months, waiting for something to break, some sign. It always comes ... if you’re patient. Let’s be honest, eh? We both know you’re not the real reason I’m here.” Liam let that sink in for a beat or two. “I’m here to kill John Casey.” He waved a hand, dismissing the kid’s wide eyes all in one gesture. “Ach, don’t look so disappointed, boyo.”

“Goph to helph,” Chuck muttered, hating himself for letting the man goad him.

“Ah, puppy teeth. I like that,” his quiet voice continued. “Sweet how you rise to his defense, even when you’re ... utterly helpless?” A flicker of humor forced its way over his hard face. “They say love makes a man content. I say it makes him an idiot. Weak ... taking risks he shouldn’t even fathom. Too bad, really.”

Struggle was plainly fruitless, but Chuck’s next move had nothing to do with logic. He brought up one of his knees, the one not held down by the ankle rope, and gave the chair a little kick. Purely to vent his own frustration, though he immediately saw that it was a mistake.

“Humph. So naughty.” Liam pursed his lips, looking down before he brought up the back of his hand and laid another blow over his cheek, harder than the first. “I actually thought the cub would be better trained by now.”

Oh, God, he shouldn’t have done that. The room spun for a moment, making him dizzy. Chuck closed his eyes, until he felt a huge hand clamp down on his jaw.

“I said open your eyes and pay attention.” The fingers dug in, forcing his eyes wide. As Chuck blinked back the sparks, Liam surveyed him with grim satisfaction. “Good. Now if you’re starting to catch on to the way it’s going to be, I hope you’ve figured out why you’re here. Like a bee to sweet, sweet honey, you are, I bet.”

The kid shifted his shoulders and glared at him. Whatever he saw in Chuck’s dirty look, Liam simply reached up to ruffle his hair, laughing when Chuck edged away.

“You’re not a coward either, I’ll give you that much. In fact, I’m willing to wager you’re a fit match for him. I can’t give you a better compliment than that.” He continued to study Chuck, and finally released his jaw now that he had the kid’s eyes locked to him. “But I’m also willing to wager there are some parts of you that are ... soft. A little tender, maybe?” There was a silence while the bear of a man gave his physique the once-over. Then a finger traced a line delicately down Chuck’s throat, feeling his pulse, a nervous swallow. “So afraid ... aren’t you? You can’t hide it.”

Chuck held his breath, his heart tripping. No surprise that Liam’s finger was dead cold. It rolled upward, along the kid’s jaw bone to his aching cheek, brushed over his temple and a few curls damp with sweat. Everything in Chuck froze, he refused to pull back or react this time.

“Tsk. You bruise easily, too, kid. He’s not going to like that much, is he?” Liam watched him with some amusement for a spell. “Your lover would like me dead. Damn near managed it too. Pity I was warned by a little bird.”

Nice way to say slimy snake, Chuck thought. Rudy, the pinch-faced lieutenant who had brought Chuck’s dad to his doorstep, had obviously sold Casey down the river. Right after he backstabbed Liam.

“I don’t suppose I have anything to worry about with you, do I? No weapons? They tell me you weren’t armed when they found you. Still, on the off chance ....” Liam gave Chuck’s cheek a patronizing tap, smiled, and drew his hand down to his jeans. A bitter comparison, but it was the same size as Casey’s. The man wasted no time groping his pockets, first the front and back on one side before leaning over him to get to the other side. “I can see why he’s taken with you,” he murmured to himself. “Slender, lean and so firm ... but enough to hang onto when he’s fucking you, is that it? Bet he loves your body .... Do you breathe faster when he touches you? Like this?”

Chuck’s dark eyes flashed with a response and he felt his jaw tighten.

“Oh, yes,” Liam said, chuckling at the kid’s expression. “How could I forget? Pretty eyes, a boyish, flushed face. You have no idea what you’re capable of, kid. Why that makes you more dangerous.”

When his hand strolled over to the front pocket, Chuck lifted his hip to try to avoid the thick fingers that slid in deep, prodding a little too intimately. Landing on something, Liam paused and tilted his head. “What is this?” he asked, extricating his find. A flash of gold caught the light, gleamed as he turned it over in his fingers. “His pocket watch. How sweet.”

“Givef it bacph,” Chuck demanded.

“You want it?” Liam’s gaze drifted down the kid’s bare torso before traveling up again. “Look at you. Flat on your back. Hands tied behind you. Nothing more than a dingy pair of jeans keeping you from showing the world what your mama gave you.” Watching Chuck’s face, he flipped the watch in his hand before stuffing it in his own pocket. “I have to give you some credit. You do have balls, kid.”

Chuck glanced down at the pocket where his watch had disappeared, vowing to himself that somehow he was going to get it back. The only problem was he’d have to live, and right now, it wasn’t looking too promising.

“No worries, boyo. I’ll keep it safe. We’ll make sure he knows I have it now.” Liam sat back in the chair again, still inspecting him in a way that made Chuck feel a cold prickle along his skin. “I didn’t always want him dead ... to hurt him. Did he tell you that? I wanted him ... in other ways. He made it no secret that he wasn’t interested.” The kid noticed the cool Gaelic voice became less matter-of-fact. “I did try. You understand, then, why your presence is so ... unsettling to me.”

Maybe it was the way he hung on the word unsettling, but Chuck’s stomach, already tangled into a ball, felt as if a long-clawed bear had begun to tear it to shreds. When he sucked in a breath between his teeth, he saw his own bare chest rising and falling, revealing more about himself than he wanted to. That cold fear ricocheted through him.

It wasn’t Liam’s anger that made his breath heave and his body shudder, though it was reason enough. It was masochistic insanity that coiled around it.

“I can see you’re perhaps curious about my relationship with him .... It was a long time ago, and nothing ever happened the way I would’ve liked it to. Does that make you feel relieved, boy?” He laughed bitterly, stroked a thumb over Chuck’s cheek, smiled when the kid couldn’t hide his flinch. “Don’t like me touching you, do you?”

Chuck jerked his head away, pointing a glare at the blank wall.

“That’s actually a very fine thing,” Liam said. Reaching over, he steered Chuck’s face around so that the kid could see him, making him notice the way the tightlipped smile dimmed. “It will make the evening much more entertaining. Hm? Ah, tsk, don’t look at me like that. I’m only curious why it was you. But I guess I’ll soon find out what your inner appeal is.” As he trailed his fingers down Chuck’s cheek, then sliding into the hollow of his throat, the kid could feel him looking. Those cinder black eyes burned a path of ashes over his skin. “Outwardly ... yes, I see that. Surprised, but indeed I do.”

The intent scrutiny of his body, bare and open from his low-slung jeans on up, forced Chuck to break the eye contact, bring up his right knee to an area he really wanted to smack. Damn Liam. He couldn’t just eye him like a customer at the butcher counter. “Geff back.”

Liam just grunted. Before the kid could try his luck again, the blow to his cheek rattled Chuck’s teeth. It also worked a yelp out of his throat, something he’d find embarrassing in other circumstances. “You don’t listen very well, though, do you, boy?” Liam asked, and in a sudden explosion of force, he dug his fingers around his jaw again, aiming the kid’s brown eyes forward. “Three times I told you to look at me. The next time it won’t be as gentle, eh?”

Gentle? Chuck’s eyelids fluttered until he could see past the spangling light. He resigned himself to follow the instructions, force his numb mind to think of anything but the dark implication coming from the man’s lips. How to get out, how to stay alive ... how to not get ....

“You’re wondering why I didn’t go straight for the throat of the wolf, is that it? Why you?” As he spoke in that low burr, Liam drew his hand lower, down to Chuck’s sternum and the dark patch of chest hair, holding him when he instinctively tried to squirm a few inches to the side. “Angular ... yet muscular, too. Nice.”

Holy shit, no.

“Eyes up here.” Instead of a slap this time, Liam used his other hand to bring Chuck’s head up. “I could’ve easily done that, too ... taken out the wolf,” the large man bragged, the proprietary touch across one impossibly sensitive nipple making the kid’s skin crawl. “Big wily bastard aside, it is possible.”

Chuck closed his eyes, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t look ... down. Couldn’t watch.

“No?” Liam chuckled. “Like it when he does that, I bet ....”

Even though he’d lost feeling in his arms hours ago, Chuck had to do something. He lifted his torso and jerked, trying to throw the roaming hand off him. “Donf you dare,” he choked out. Idiot. God, he was playing right into him.

“It’s simple, really, boy. Why it had to be you.” Moving with exquisite care, Liam drew his thumb over the kid’s waist before he removed his hand. Chuck only had a few seconds of relief when he saw it was merely to reach into his belt and tug out a long knife from its leather sheaf. “Not him. Not at first.”

Chuck yanked his leg to scoot closer to the wall. Useless as that was. The air in the room, made stifling with every passing minute that led to midday, was unmoving except for the gasping breath he had failed to repress behind the filthy gag. Knowing what the man was capable of, he forced himself to keep his eyes pointed up for fear Liam would resort to using the knife rather than his fist.

“You see,” Liam went on, low-voiced, “you can cut out a man’s tongue with a sharp knife, and he’ll never speak. You can cut off his hand, and he’ll never ... ever steal something from you again.” Twisting the knife in his hand, the thin cool blade slid past Chuck’s throat, and the kid could feel the point gently pricking the first rib of his bare ribcage. “But when you cut out his heart? Now that, laddie? That’s the cure. He’ll never take another breath again.”

Liam’s eyes followed the blade tip as it slithered over his skin, and Chuck’s rhythm hitched. The point dug in a little. His captor simply shrugged.

“It’s just unfortunate that you’re the heart.”

-x-

Casey exchanged a look with Devon. Obviously, the young doctor was alarmed by the seeming impropriety about to be faced by a well-bred lady. Perhaps she had never had to rescue her baby brother from another man’s hotel room.

“Uh, maybe we should go – just for a little while, Miss,” Devon suggested, plastering on a bright smile. “Hey, I have the perfect idea. They can meet us downstairs for breakfast in the dining room. My treat. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up -”

“Out of my way,” Ellie said, automatically craning to look past Casey’s shoulder. “It’s been over a year since I’ve seen my brother, and if you think I’m not going in there because of what I’ll think, I’ll – well.” The lady waffled only for a few ticks before she leveled her eyes at Casey again. “I will use my parasol over the top of your head.”

Casey glanced down at the ivory lace sunshade, noting there was nothing delicate about the hold in the woman’s gloved fingers. Damned if she wasn’t gripping the intricately carved handle like she would take a good swing at him.

“I think she means it, man,” the idiot shopkeeper piped up. “She wouldn’t even let me hold it!”

“You really couldn’t stop her?” Casey said gruffly over Ellie’s head to Devon. “And him?”

“Is he really in there?” Morgan asked, standing on his tiptoes to look past Casey’s shoulder. “Hey, Chuck! It’s me! Morgan!”

“I – she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Devon explained. Saying that, he made a highly unsuccessful attempt to take her by the elbow. “Let’s have them join us downstairs.”

Ellie turned her hazel eyes on him only for a brief flicker. “Do that again, and you’ll be next.”

“Ah, okay.” Devon took one look at the parasol and brought his hands up. “Bro, I think the little man has a point: she does mean it. So she’s all yours.”

Casey might’ve been able to handle this with some semblance of dignity or class, but when Ellie squared her shoulders, milk-white against the burgundy morning dress, he knew he was facing a mama bear. “You need to understand one thing about me, Mr. Casey,” she said flatly. “I love my brother. No matter what. And frankly I don’t give a damn who he chooses to love, or how he lives his life - as long as I can have him back in mine. So move it.”

Hearing a lady use a little language didn’t faze Casey, but he heard both Morgan and Devon draw in an audible gasp.

“Listen, Missy,” Casey began in his best growl, “if you think -”

“I’m not naïve or blind,” Ellie interrupted, ignoring him. “The only thing I know is that for whatever reason, he left without saying good-bye. Maybe it was because I couldn’t protect him enough, or ... it had something to do with my father, but I do know this: no one can stop me from finding him, and if he is in there, you best get out of my way.”

Casey squinted down at her, casting an appraising eye over the kid’s sister. Despite the fact she was tall for a woman, he still towered over her by a good half foot. Usually his rough appearance – boots, jeans, leather holster, accompanied by his sheer size – made the fancy ladies jittery. This one reminded him of a plow mule.

Yep, confirmed it. She and the kid came from the same place.

Still, Casey wasn’t about to be pushed around by any women-folk. “Nice speech, duchess,” he retorted, calmly folding his arms in front of him. “But he’s not here.”

Ellie’s face fell. “He’s not?” she and Devon said at the same time. “Where is he?” Ellie asked. “The doctor said he was with you.”

“Yes, you told me he didn’t come home last night,” Morgan blurted, turning to Devon before angling around again. “Chuck? Are you in there?! Man, it’s me!”

“Keep your voice down,” Case hissed at the troll.

“Well, you see ... the Chuckster,” Devon explained, gesturing a little awkwardly in Casey’s direction, “ah, met his friend here last night ... and from what I ... saw ... I had to assume they were – uh, sorry Miss, I didn’t mean to offend you -”

“You saw them sparking and assumed they would come back to this cowboy’s room,” Ellie filled in for him. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Devon knitted his brows, concentrating fiercely on remaining gentlemanly. “Something like that, yes.”

“Ah, hell.” Casey swept his eyes over the motley assemblage at his door, lips pressed tightly together in irritation. With every second that ticked by, time was wasted. Time he should spend pulling a plan together, even if it was only with the dick head behind the door. “Go back home,” he ordered to them. “I’ll let you know when the kid’s here.”

“You can’t be serious, Mr. Casey. I’m not going anywhere.” To prove it, Ellie mirrored his stance by folding her slender arms over her lace bodice, showing no hint of backing off. “Where is my brother?”

“Listen, Your Highness,” Casey said, “as entertaining as this is, I don’t have time to explain to you where he is or how he ended up there. I can only vow to you that he’ll be -”

“He’s been taken,” Bryce broke in, appearing at Casey’s shoulder. “Mr. Casey won’t tell you, but Chuck’s in danger.”

“You bastard! Wait. Bryce? Oh, my God.” To his credit, Casey didn’t even flinch when Ellie reared up, eyes wide. “My brother really isn’t here? He’s in danger?”

“You little piss ant,” Casey said as he whirled around to face Bryce. It took everything not to strangle the life out of him, and to hell with making a first impression with the big sister, but he held his arms taut at his sides. “Shut the f-ah eh.... ”

“Easy, bro,” Devon said.

Casey pinned him back with just a look, but he had a point. Not the time to curse. Even if this situation required a metric shit ton of it. “Get back in there,” he bit out to Bryce.

“Hang on,” Ellie said. “Bryce, what are you doing here?” To add to Casey’s suffering, her eyes swept over him suspiciously. “What are you doing in this ... this man’s room?”

“Hell, no,” Casey said. “Me and him? Don’t even think it, sister.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think?”

“Hey, do you have any idea how long it takes to get here from Kiowa?” Morgan asked. “I deserve to know.”

“Hang on a minute, bro.” Devon stepped forward, evidently to come to the ladies’ rescue, though Casey questioned his motives since she seemed to get on fine without him. “This young lady has come a long way to find her brother, too. I think we need some answers. What has happened to Chuck?”

Now filled with the urge to kill Bryce and shuffle the rest of them the hell out of here, Casey pinched the bridge of his nose and finally let loose that pent-up string of curses. Gaelic this time, but it still felt satisfying to explain to Bryce how he was going to get punctured with a Bowie knife as soon as Casey shut the door.

Of course, the mule-headed woman had other notions. Ellie, seeing her opening, breezed by Casey’s side to stride into the middle of the room. “You weren’t lying,” she said, her eyes skimming straight to the bed before she turned to him. “Explain. Right now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Casey – if that’s who you are. What’s happened to my brother?”

“Pull in your horns, toots,” Casey muttered. Honestly, he had not reckoned the tenacity of Chuck’s older sibling, or the landlord and best friend, who had followed in on her heels. He determined his only choice was to suffer in dignified silence while they all seemed to search over the bed first, each drawing the same conclusion. Empty.

It only reminded him of how fucked up this was. If any god damn thing had gone right since last night, he and the kid would be waking up right about now to an easy, slow fuck, only because they had worn each other out the night before.

Instead the bed was unoccupied, and Casey was far being alone with the one man he wanted from here on out.

“Great idea,” Casey said out into the empty hallway. “Why don’t you all just waltz in here?” Looking both ways down the corridor, he shut the door behind them before another misfit joined the party.

“He’s not lying,” Morgan said, lifting a bed cover. “Unless he’s under the bed?”

Casey rolled his eyes and nearly groaned at the resolute faces staring back at him. There seemed to be an unspoken pact of gallantry between the three, joining against the enemy – him – who wanted them out of his hair. Well, tough luck. No way in hell was this going to go down with Chuck’s sister in the mix.

“Since the blabbermouth already leaked,” Casey said, “I’m going to give you the short version – and then you’re going to leave. Got that?”

“No.” They all turned towards Bryce, who was wearing that stubborn expression Casey was really beginning to hate. “We need them.”

“The hell we do,” Casey ground out. “I’m still on the fence with you, let alone them.”

“You said we would be outnumbered,” Bryce argued, and he motioned over at the two green horn accomplices. “Here are two more willing to fight. It improves our odds, doesn’t it?”

“Ifreanne, look at them,” Casey said in disbelief. “Look at all of you. Nothing but a pack of maverick moon-eyed calves. Shoot your own peckers off before you put a bullet between a man’s eyes.” He gave Ellie a sidelong, guilty look. “No offense, ma’am.”

“Bryce is right.” Ellie stepped forward, one hand on her hip. “I don’t know what kind of trouble he’s in, but I do know that more hands are better than one. No matter how much of a big mule-headed bastard that one man might be. No offense, Mr. Casey,” she added calculatingly.

Devon and Morgan drew in a sharp breath again at the precision of the call from the lady’s mouth. No one attempted to refute the description, however.

“Not happening,” Casey informed her, lifting his chin to better loom.

The woman was nonplussed. “And trust me, when it’s all done, I will find out from Chuck himself what your role is in all of this.”

“And I’m not going to sit back, either.” Devon glimpsed briefly at Ellie before lifting his hands to make an announcement. “I would rather be in danger than left waiting and wondering. I’m in, bro. Whatever it is.”

“Me too,” Morgan said, fumbling into his holster for a borrowed gun that Casey deemed last saw action in the war between the states. “Ow. Why does that never work? You know, the little snappy-thing always get caught on my nail. Right there. See?”

Bryce stared at the smaller man before shaking it off. “You’re in. Both of you.”

“Who the hell says so?” Unfolding his arms, Casey rounded slowly on the twit. “And while we’re at it, who the hell put you in charge?”

“No one. You’re in charge, Casey.” Plainly Bryce meant it, but seeing Casey ready to toss the others out, he shook his head. “That means when the two of us go up against a dozen men, get killed in the process ... and get Chuck killed as well, that will all be on you, John.”

Casey’s stomach gave a sudden lurch at the thought of Chuck. Was he really going to do this? Let his own obstinacy and pride be the reason for the kid’s ... ah, shit.

With that vision crowding into his mind, Casey sighed impatiently and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, eyeing the sorriest excuse of a gang he had ever had the misfortune to team up with.

And already he regretted the question he was getting ready to ask.

“Either of you two dipshits know how to use a gun?”

-x-

“So your lover and I, we seem to be at an impasse, lad,” Liam said. “I have something of his now, and he has something that belongs to me.”

The bank accounts. As Chuck tried his best not to watch the tip of the knife, he recalled the conversation. Casey had finally admitted to him that one of the premeditated deathblows would be to clean out every last one of his boss’s accounts. Of course, after that, his boyfriend had planned to fake his own death, something about an accident and his carcass left at the bottom of the river, forever leaving Liam to wonder what had become of the money.

Apparently reading his mind, Liam leaned over him, filling his vision with his smoothly-shaved face and a smirk, and said, “Too bad his plans never quite worked out the way he intended. Then you wouldn’t be here, would you? Sharing some time ... with me?”

The blade traveled lower, over the hollow of his stomach. Pressing in, yet not enough to cut through the tender skin. Chuck swallowed hard and remained as motionless as he could. His heart jumped to his throat, but he didn’t dare twitch -

“Is it cold in here, boy?” Raising his gaze, Liam placed the blade under Chuck’s throat, nudging up his chin impatiently. “I’m only asking because I can feel you trembling.” Satisfied Chuck was watching again, he positioned the knife point with care, beneath his ribcage, then drew it lower over the finest layer of dark hair arrowing down to his navel. “Or do you feel too warm in here? You are sweating. Too hot? Here’s an idea. You can take something off.”

The hint sickened him. Was he really going to do this? Chuck calculated his odds of being able to throw Liam off his body, kick him, stop him. Anything. But without the use of his arms? Hell, even with his arms free, he couldn’t overpower him. The man was all broad shoulders and pure tense muscle. Liam would put Casey to the test.

The knifepoint moved in a roughly circular shape over his flat stomach. When Chuck drew in a breath between his teeth, Liam pinned his eyes to his face and moved it lower, the blade on its side scraping bare skin over the waist of his jeans. No slice, no ooze of red, but the threat hung on a thin thread, hovering over him.

God, don’t let there be blood. He couldn’t faint ....

“Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Liam’s voice cut through the fog. The psychopath wanted to be certain Chuck wasn’t fuzzing out, which he guaranteed when the back of his hand struck him solidly across the jaw.

“Uff.” More stars exploded over Chuck’s vision. A brief grimace of pain crossed his face and he held his breath for a moment. When he breathed again, it was shallow, panting gulps around the rotten cloth. It did nothing to steady him. “Get shuffed!”

“Hm. Really. I have to give you some credit, boy, most men would piss their pants by now. You are a tenacious one. I must say, I like that.”

Chuck forced himself to keep his eyes fastened on him, tested his strength by curling his fingers around the blanket under his hips. The temptation to lift his torso from the bed to gain movement or at least the flow of blood in his arms had to be fought back. An idiotic move like that would only drive the knife into his belly, and of course Liam knew it.

“So smooth ... soft.” Now that he had Chuck’s full attention, Liam’s other hand, not holding the knife, relaxed, flattened out. He ran his palm over Chuck’s ribcage, his thumb passing over a nipple on the way down before he changed direction to explore his stomach, following the dent of his navel, then brushing his knuckles over the lean stomach muscles. “I can see what he likes about you ....”

Chuck told himself not to listen, block him out. Feel nothing. He tensed when the blade stopped over the buttons of his jeans.

“Too, I can see why Johnnie threw away everything. Look at you. Eyes like deep, Irish caife. Ever taste that? And ... a smile as bright and warm as the sun on your back, I bet.”

“Don’f,” Chuck said quietly. He knew the word wouldn’t diffuse this, but he had to verbalize his resistance. Don’t. You can’t.

“No? Considering the circumstances, I won’t take it personally if you refuse to give me that sweet grin, eh, kid?” Using his free hand, Liam touched his hair and chuckled when the kid jolted as if the blade had cut him. “What else do you give him? Is it your smarts that challenge him? They say you’re a genius. Funny. I don’t think that’s it at all, boyo. Want to know what I think he wants?”

Chuck wished he could just close his eyes and make it all disappear. He shook his head, no, no, no.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Liam fixed him with a designing sort of look, smiling wolfishly, black eyes gleaming. The knife withdrew. Chuck was halfway to letting out a breath in relief –

-until Liam slid his hand over the front of Chuck’s jeans, his thumb rolling down to the flap, just a teasing caress before he moved to palm him. To squeeze. “Yeah ... I think he likes this. Mm. Hung. Does he make you feel good, kid? When he does this?”

Slamming his eyes shut, Chuck inhaled around the gag, trying to make the stretch of time something different, knowing it was likely lost.

Liam’s head bent forward, hair brushing the kid’s temple. “You closed your eyes again. Did you know that?” he whispered. “Think it would help if I push these down enough? Get them out of the way?” But he didn’t advance, just molded his hand against him again, fondling him through his pants. “Now ... open them, boy.”

Chuck did as he was told, forced his eyes open, feeling the heat of Liam’s body as if he had emerged from hell.

Rising from the chair, Liam deliberately circled a huge hand around one of the kid’s biceps, keeping his attention on his face. As he held the restraint, the kid felt a quiver run through the larger man. It was turning him on, the raw fierceness, the power over him. Chuck’s fear.

“This will be much more stimulating if you can speak,” he said, glancing at the gag. “Want me to take this off first?”

x- End Chapter Five Where the Road Ends -x-


	6. Chapter Six

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Six

-x-

“Can anybody use more coffee?” Devon asked as he picked up the pot from his cast iron stove. Though Casey presumed he was talking to all of them, when he wobbled it in the air, the young doctor looked directly at Ellie and no one else. “There’s a little bit left, if I can entice you.”

Casey wanted to ask him if he could entice himself by finding his man parts, since the girl seemed to have poached that piece of anatomy while he wasn’t looking. Woodcomb had hardly taken his eyes off the kid’s big sister since she purportedly blew into his front yard like a fucking hurricane this morning. At least it proved the hunch Casey had last night after his initial jolt of meeting the kid’s ‘roommate.’ Devon definitely wasn’t interested in Casey’s boyfriend.

“What? Oh. Coffee.” Ellie faltered, looking troubled by the faraway place her thoughts had taken her. There was one small favor, at least, for which Casey was thankful: the tears in her eyes, lingering there all morning, were still unshed. “Thank you, Dr. Woodcomb.”

“Please. Call me Devon -”

“Devon. You’ve been very kind to me. And my brother.” Her look became suspicious when she turned to Casey. “You didn’t let anything happen to him.”

Casey set his pack down, the belongings he had carried from the hotel, and looked around the kitchen table. Of course she was going to sit there and make him suffer, when all he wanted was the same as her, to get the kid back.

“Did someone say coffee? Yes, I’ll take some,” Morgan piped up. The little bearded idiot, oblivious to Devon’s advances, waved his cup in the air. “Yes, sir. Just top that right off. Goody.”

“Um, sure.” Devon raised an apologetic brow at Ellie and poured the last bitter dredges into Morgan’s cup. “I’ll start another pot,” he said. “Can I get you anything else, Miss Ellie?”

Casey chose to bite off the comment to go grow a pair, and instead rolled his eyes. True, she was a mighty pretty little thing, thick wisps of dark hair and eyes that seemed to change color with her facial expressions, flecks of green to chocolate, but the young doctor was making a damn fool out of himself.

Lifting his cup, Casey let the steam curl up towards his face before letting out a sigh. Maybe Woodcomb wasn’t the first to be taken under the spell of one of the siblings. There was no comparison whatsoever between himself and this spectacle, however. It was nauseating to watch.

But sitting back while a man let himself get towed in like a hooked fish was the least of his worries.

He was now officially seated across the table from the kid’s sister, landlord, and whatever the hell the dwarf considered himself, waiting for the onslaught. The idea of talking about Chuck and Liam to any of them made him debate just sprinting away. But that was the coward’s way of dealing with it, so he braced himself to deflect the thousand questions that would come to mind.

Other phrases had echoed, refusing to be ignored, all the way through the mechanical movements of picking up stakes and moving to the Doctor’s house.

“Love made you weak, John,” Liam had said. “My only question to myself is how I want it to happen.” The man bunched his lips together as if this was a quandary and the answer would eventually come to him. “Oh, tsk. The boy has to die first – that part’s easy enough. How else can I make you feel what it’s like to lose something you hold so dear?”

And now the images taunted him, just as Liam intended. Chuck was trapped with a mad man. Somewhere, afraid. Maybe hurt in ways Casey couldn’t even think about. Still, the thoughts crept in like house spiders through tight cracks in the woodwork.

Liam would want to hear him scream. Do what he could to strip him from the inside out.

He had no mercy.

It was a mistake to let him out of his sight last night. He should’ve known that maniac would beat him here, sink his claws into him. Hell, the kid hadn’t any experience at using a gun, even if he had one. Scooping up a lost kitten was harder than swiping him away.

And now every drop of moisture rolling over Casey’s skin, under his shirt, reminded him of the touch of Chuck’s hands, the slide of his body over him. Full circle, back to longing and yearning and fear with too many hours to fill in the dead of night, and even now in the brightest hours of the day.

When it was quiet, Casey could almost hear Liam laughing. Underestimated me, Johnnie-boy?

“Casey.” Casey brought himself back to the present, only to see Bryce Larkin snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you should move your hand, or I slice it off,” Casey told him.

Bryce’s face settled into a mutinous scowl, but he did pull his hand back. “You’re the one who told us we needed to get out of the hotel and find a safe place to lay out the plan,” he said, looking from face to face before turning to Casey. “The doctor was kind enough to offer up his home to us. And here we are. So can I assume you have it all figured out by now?”

“Oh, hang on. Is this going to involve fisticuffs?” Morgan cut in. He cleared his throat. “I should warn you, it’s not my forte.”

“Fisticuffs or not, I haven’t changed my mind,” Devon said. “I’m in.”

“Three partners. Sounds perfect, right, Casey? So why don’t you enlighten us.” Bryce plopped into the most comfortable seat in the house, a wing chair next to the kitchen’s stone fireplace. He put his feet up on a stool and folded his hands over his vest. “We’d love to know how you plan on getting Chuck out of the mess you put him in. Wouldn’t we, guys?”

“And ladies,” Devon corrected, holding up a hand.

Casey brushed off the unwelcome hint – he was quite aware that the kid’s big sister had him locked in his sights - and turned his squint on Bryce. “The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is why I didn’t throw you out that window. One final push was all it would’ve taken.”

“A what?” Ellie’s face went slack for a second. “You didn’t seriously consider throwing Mr. Larkin out a window, did you?”

“More like a good shove,” Casey explained under his breath.

“That somehow makes it better,” Ellie said, shaking her head slowly. “Tell me again, Mr. Casey, who you are? How do you fit in with my brother?”

“Yeah, Casey, we’d love to hear it,” Bryce said.

“Guys, guys,” Devon broke in. His admiring expression towards the lone female in the room retreated, replaced by one of peacekeeper. “Now, I don’t know exactly how this happened to Chuck or why someone would want to hurt him – sorry, Ellie – and I’m not sure how we’re going to get him out of it. But I do know this much. If we don’t work together, well, we don’t stand a chance of getting Chuck back home.” He waved one finger around in a circle, signaling each person around the table. “Isn’t that what we all want? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Bryce was still frowning, but he kept his trap shut.

Casey shook his head. He could appreciate blunt advice and normally found it commendable, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to find a window.

“Well, I’m not a coward,” Morgan announced in dramatic fashion. “What he said. I’m still in.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw the shock and surprise work its way through Ellie’s system, but she finally summoned up a small smile for the other two. “Yes, that’s what we want. That’s why I’m here.” And then it happened. That damn solitary tear slid down Ellie’s cheek. “Tell me what we need to do.”

Casey swept a leery glance over them. Never had he pulled together such a lame-ass group of vigilantes. Taking a drink of coffee, he considered where he wanted to start. It had to be with her.

“Ellie, do you know where your father is?” he asked.

“My father?”

The ass hat with a slippery smile who didn’t appreciate the missing pants routine?

“Well, I don’t see how -”

She was interrupted by the scrape of the wing chair’s legs against the floors. Everyone turned.

Bryce had risen so abruptly that he nearly tipped the chair to the side. “Oh. Hey, sorry,” he said, and avoiding the startled looks, he turned his back on them at the sink basin and rinsed out his cup. Maybe he tried to hide it, but there was a self-conscious hunching of his shoulders.

Casey focused his attention on the most suspect member of his posse. Why was he jittery now? Not when he was hanging out the window a few hours ago. Didn’t even have the courtesy to piss himself, a fact that perturbed Casey a bit. Bryce had already admitted vaguely to Casey that he had been hired by the old man to find his friend, something Ellie was probably unaware of, or was it something else?

Either way, Casey made a mental note to keep Bryce even tighter under his thumb until he could get it out of him. Or beat it out of him, which was his preferred method in this case.

“Hey, man, do you think Chuck’s dad might have something do with this?” Morgan asked.

Casey ignored him and directed his next question at Ellie. “Was he home when you left for the Carolinas?”

“Well, no. He had one of his business trips.” Ellie got up from her chair, her long skirt rustling as she walked over to hold the pot while Devon worked the handle of the water pump. “My father is an important man, in case Chuck hasn’t told you that. He’s often away to meet with his associates or board members. Oversee operations.”

“What kind of business trip was it this time?”

“He’s very close-mouthed about his work. He doesn’t share the details with us. Why?”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

“No,” she said at length, obviously bothered by his secretiveness. “What does this have to do with Chuck?”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Are you absolutely sure you should be asking me this?” she wondered, returning to the table.

“I need to know,” Casey said point blank.

“Why? Do you think my father was involved somehow? That he knows about Chuck’s disappearance?”

He wasn’t certain, but he needed to rule it out. “Are you protecting your dear old dad for some reason?”

“I’m protecting my brother,” Ellie said, and added in a mutter, “Someone has to.”

Casey curbed his impatience by putting a booted foot up on the chair Bryce had vacated. “I get it. You don’t trust me. And I can’t blame you for that.” He leaned in closer, looking straight at Ellie. “But we have a day to get a plan fleshed out, so if you don’t mind me saying, this is going to go a lot faster if I’m the one asking the questions.”

“He left three days ago,” Ellie answered, her voice stiff. “Who are you, anyway? And before you open your mouth, Mr. Casey, or make another one of those noises you seem so fond of, I want a real answer this time. Not the explanation you gave us in the hotel room. How is my brother tangled up with you?”

Casey looked around the table at the other men, evading her eyes for a moment. It’d take a pair of pliers to loosen his tongue on the degree to which they were tangled, but he had to get the confused, almost accusatory looks off their faces.

Here goes, Mama Bear. “I’m his ... partner,” he said in a careful, low voice. “I have been since the spring. We met at his farm in Colorado.”

“Last spring?” Immediately, Morgan sat up taller and snapped his fingers. “I knew it!”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked, though the pink tinge of her cheeks told Casey her mind was still stuck on his admission.

“I – uh, only meant Chuck began acting a bit strange back then, that’s all. Sort of the way I felt when I met the new serving wench at the Calhoun’s Saloon back home.” Morgan took a slurp of coffee and smiled. “Have you ever felt your insides get all -”

“Maybe you should let him finish,” Devon suggested in a hurry.

“Yes, I want to her from my brother’s ... partner.” Ellie shifted her eyes to study Casey, obviously wondering how her brother got saddled up with such a ruffian of an outlaw. “You said Chuck is in danger. Where is he?”

Casey’s hand dropped to his holster and he fiddled with the snap, a stall tactic, but he didn’t care. Even an unwise man knew that facing off with the big sister called for the most edited version one could muster. “A man I used to work for became interested in brokering a railroad deal with your father,” he explained, “but it seems your dad chose not to go through with it. The reason isn’t important. But he backed away, saying there was too much risk. The route, the land procurement, Union Pacific’s interest in driving up the cost. Something threw up a red flag.”

“So?” Ellie, giving up on being polite, tugged her white gloves off her fingers and sat up in her chair. “My father didn’t get in the position he’s in by brokering deals that were too costly. What’s unusual about that?”

“What’s unusual, Miss, is that the man he said no to doesn’t take the word no as an answer.”

Ellie folded one arm over her chest as a dark shadow crept into her eyes. “What does this have to do with Chuck?”

“My boss did a little digging. Wanted to see if he could inappropriately... motivate your father,” Casey said. “He found out that your dad was looking for Charles Adams the Third.”

“Wouldn’t you, if you lost your son?”

Sure, sister, believe what you will. Casey saw through that sickening little act, searching and caterwauling for his precious son. Except the son had stolen the one thing daddy treasured over everything. The Cipher. Unbelievable, but he sensed Ellie had no knowledge of it.

“My boss,” Casey said, “used his associates,” - and she doesn’t need to know what a motley band of miscreants, hoot owls, and cut throats that is -“to find out where your brother was holed up.” He locked his hands around the coffee cup. “It seems they paid Chuck a surprise visit.”

Ellie chewed her bottom lip. “I – I highly doubt it was a social call, Mr. Casey.”

Brilliant deduction, your highness, Casey almost let slip. He realized that would do nothing to give her reassurance – with the extra disadvantage of making her hate him more - so he hit the punch line. “My boss held your brother as leverage,” he said, repressing a cringe at the look Ellie gave him. “And the pieces began to fall into place after that. Your father traveled to Colorado to meet with ... Liam.”

“Your boss?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

His reasons and regrets would stay closely guarded. “I had left for a short while.” Casey’s shoulder’s tensed, even as he pretended to shrug it off. Another big fucking mistake, as it turned out. “I needed to get some business in order. The kid knew I’d be back.”

“But instead my brother ended up with your boss ... somewhere. Being held against his will.” Ellie tilted her head at him and continued with frost in her tone, “I guess you’ve made a habit out of letting this happen to him.”

Devon came to his rescue by reaching around to place a glass in front of her. “How about some water until the coffee is ready?”

“I – thank you, but I’m quite all right.”

God, what a kiss ass, but Casey took advantage of the opening to do some quick sweeping under the matt. “I managed to get him out of there before the contract could be signed,” he said.

“My brother ... went through all of that?” A white pallor came up on her skin as she absorbed the story. “Was Chuck okay? They – they didn’t hurt him, did they?”

They played a card game to see who would get him first.

Only regret was that the head shots weren’t clean. Made a damn mess in Jo’s kitchen.

“They couldn’t take a chance hurting the one thing that would close the deal,” Casey said.

Maybe the assholes didn’t know rape was hurt, but Casey had cleared that up right proper for them.

As he hoped it would, Ellie’s face relaxed somewhat, though her hazel eyes did stay wary. “Okay, so you got him out of there. Then what? Obviously, you weren’t able to keep him safe, were you?”

Casey’s jaw set resolutely at the indictment. “Yeah, unfortunately, your brother doesn’t always listen. Mighta noticed, but he can be a bullheaded little bastard when he sets his mind to it. Guess none of that fell far from the tree, did it?”

She threw him a narrow look. “I can see what he saw you in you, Mr. Casey. Charm, manners, and the delicacy of a sledgehammer.”

She wasn’t pissed, though. Maybe Casey wasn’t quite reading her the way he should, but she seemed almost appreciative to be getting a straight answer. “Let’s just say losing the kid didn’t sit so well with my boss,” he explained, still weighing each word. “Liam was madder than a poked rattlesnake when he found out his only ace in the hole was gone.”

Okay. That might’ve been slightly edited. Liam’s anger could’ve had more to do with the matter of a losing a shitload of cash from his bank accounts, but she didn’t need to know that much, either.

“That utter bastard.” Without blinking, the flecks in her eyes turned black. It made Casey pity anyone within her grasp who would hurt her baby brother, because he was certain this little lady, appropriately riled to protect him, could take down a bull. “My brother is being used as a pawn? To cut a deal?”

It was sheer dumb luck that that was the truth without telling her the truth. So it was twisted up a bit. No one was going to get that picky.

“Yes. Simple as that.” Casey shifted his gaze towards the window, where the sunlight slanted through the glass overlooking the yard. And Chuck’s workshop, but he couldn’t bear to think of that. How much longer could they sit here explaining while his guts coiled?

“Sounds like the furthest thing from simple, Mr. Casey,” she said.

The girl was right. But there were those damnable flashes of Chuck that kept beating at him. It was time to move.

“Devon. I need to get into Chuck’s room.” Casey stood, turning his focus to the doctor. “Mind showing me where it is?”

“His room? Why?” Elle regarded him disapprovingly. “I think that’s a violation of his privacy.”

Casey rather doubted he’d squawk. Hell, he had violated him twelve ways to Sunday and the kid never complained a bit, and now she’s worried about this?

Rather than tell her, Casey rolled his tongue in his mouth until a more delicate response could be formed. “Of course,” he said, gruffness in his voice, “we could probably go about this the way we’re doing right now. All sitting around the table, swilling our coffee and letting Liam get away without a trace.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Morgan asked, looking around. “I thought we were going to learn how to use guns? Not that I haven’t pulled a trigger before, but I feel this is the time to say I’m better with a slingshot.”

After a suitable ‘dumb shit’ glare, Casey focused on the others. “I was able to get your brother out of a heap of trouble long before yesterday,” he said as if Morgan hadn’t spoken, “and if you don’t mind, I plan on doing it again. The only thing stopping me is that my ... posse” – and God, he hated that he had to think of them that way – “is sitting on their collective asses and questioning my judgment.”

Devon looked at him, soberly. “John has a point,” he said, stretching his hands on the table like a second in charge sergeant rallying the troops. “I’ll take you up to his room.”

“Then leave,” Casey ordered.

“Leave?”

“You heard me.” Casey automatically tucked his thumbs in his holster. “I don’t need to answer a bunch of questions right now. I know what I’m looking for.”

Devon stared back at him. He was on the verge of arguing, but finally relinquished with a tilt of his head towards the stairs. “Follow me.”

As they started to leave, Ellie’s voice stopped them. “I remember my father’s business trip. That was, as you said, months ago. Why did this man- Liam - keep looking for him? What does he want with Chuck?”

“He’s using him as leverage.” Casey gave an uncomfortable shrug. “Just like he did before.”

“But – my father dropped the negotiations. He shut your boss out. Why would he ..?”

The girl was just as smart as her brother, a fact that Casey would appreciate under difference circumstances. But right now, it was just another pain in the ass.

“Ever set a bait trap?” When they gave him a confused look, Casey slanted a glance around the table, a signal that he was only going to say this once and they’d better shut up and listen. “This one has teeth. And the only thing my boss wants to get to ...,” and he had to sigh, “is me.”

“You?” Ellie’s eyes bugged out. “Are you going to turn yourself over to him? Is that what this is about?”

If only he could. He’d do it in a second, put himself in the kid’s shoes right now.

“I know my boss,” Casey said, and he motioned to Devon to get moving before the torrent of questions could flow. “He’ll make sure it’s more complicated than that.”

And Casey only hoped he was strong enough this time to beat back the wolf at the door.

-x-

There was something unnerving about a knife. The naked blade, gleaming as it caught the light, a splash of its reflection crawling up the wall. Yet it was easier to watch the glimmer dancing, rather than feel the way it pressed in a thin line over Chuck’s taut stomach. Like he held it now.

No doubt, if the kid lifted his abs, even a few centimeters, it would slice through skin.

Don’t breathe, don’t move, he told himself.

“I brought you here to keep a promise.” Next to the bed was a simple pine chair, a relic from somewhere else in the house. The joints creaked under his weight as Liam shifted in the seat, leaning forward with one hand lying loosely on his knee. “Did you want to hear it?” His eyes searched Chuck’s face. “Ah, silly of me, though. I promised to take off the gag, didn’t I?”

It took everything not to shirk from his hand. Reaching under the swath with a finger, Liam tugged it down until the wet rag lay across Chuck’s neck. Immediately, the kid twirled his tongue around his bone-dry mouth, trying to rid it of the taste of sweat, mildew, or whatever else had died on the rag.

“Now before you try to do something incredibly stupid and useless,” Liam said pleasantly, “I should warn you that there isn’t another plantation for several miles. That’s why I chose it, boyo. So, the only thing screaming will get us is a headache. And this stuffed into the back of your throat.” A few fingers toyed with the gag around his neck, giving it a little pull to get Chuck to look up at him. “I understand it’s as unpleasant as it sounds. Terrible way to get a last breath.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Chuck said, surprised at the brave statement.

“I’m glad you think so.” Liam slowly drew the knife in a circle on his ribcage. The pressure behind the pointed tip was carefully balanced, not to cut the epidermis, but to leave a thin trail of white where it abraded the flesh. It also hurt like hell, but the kid guessed Liam considered his discomfort a bonus. “You only had one part wrong. Want to know what it is?”

Chuck managed a withering look and kept his mouth shut.

“Stubborn. I like you, kid. I do.” His captor smiled with that unnerving resemblance to shark’s fangs. “I’ll tell you. Today. That’s the word you forgot. Do you want to know why?”

Chuck turned his head to face the wall, not certain he could keep up the act of courage if he had to stare into such lifeless eyes.

“Tsk. What have we said about that?” Liam wasted no time by grabbing his jaw and, with his fingertips squeezing into his cheeks, steered Chuck’s face around. The kid winced. “I can see you’re curious, so I’ll tell you. But first you’ll look at me. Remember the rule? What would be the fun in this without your full attention? Hm? Nod your head. Do it. That’s right, like a good little idiot.”

Chuck wanted to point out that it was Liam’s hands doing the nodding, but bit his tongue.

“The promise I made,” Liam whispered, dragging the tip to the hollow of Chuck’s belly, “was to your lover. I don’t suppose the big bastard told you about it. Likes to keep you in the dark? Can’t say I blame John for that.” He winked lewdly at him, making Chuck both flush and want to retch. “Sunshine, I’d keep you there, too.”

Get off, get away. That’s not yours. But Chuck knew some haywired component in that sick brain would love to hear it. “Are you sure I need to be here for this part?” he mumbled, swallowing when his voice cracked.

“Now you sound impatient, sweet meat,” Liam quipped, deliberately trailing the blade lower, spiraling the tip where his jean’s waistband began. “Afraid, too, no matter how much you try to hide it.” Lifting his eyes from where he had been intently watching Chuck try not to breathe, he raised a brow. “Did he teach you that? Keep your fear buried? One of his many tricks he bestowed upon you, I suppose.”

“He’s ... not like that,” Chuck said, wishing he could be quiet but his nerves never worked that way.

Liam shook his head, a light smile crossing his face. “You really are that naïve.” The blade tip traced the skin low on his belly, absently working back and forth as he considered something. “Now I’ll tell you everything I told him that night.”

“I – I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Liam said, and the anger in his eyes matched the tenacity of his grip on the handle. “It was the night John was a guest in my home. My trusted partner ... came to kill me. But I was onto his game first.” He snapped it out through clenched teeth. “So I tied him to a chair. We sat in my parlor, by the fire. Cigarettes, good scotch. Of course, he wasn’t drinking.”

Suddenly Liam surged to his feet, and removing his black bowler cap, he purposefully set it on one of the bedposts. He turned, his gaze traveling over Chuck’s half naked body like a fresh cut of meat, and Chuck was sure this was the part where he got speared in the gut.

Why was he looking at him like that? Couldn’t he just go away?

He hated God’s answer by letting the unthinkable happen.

“I held him there, too,” Liam said. “I was in complete control.” And spreading out his thighs to either side of Chuck’s, he climbed onto the bed, straddled him just above the knees.

“Don’t ....” But before he could move, Chuck felt his weight sink into him, the corn husk mattress crinkle and rock.

He was really going to do this.

“He listened, though,” Liam went on, placing one hand on Chuck’s stomach. “Johnnie was always a good listener. Very similar to your unfortunate circumstances, laddie. I didn’t give him much of a choice.”

Chuck wanted to kick him. He wet his lips and stayed still.

“I told him a little tale about what happens to dogs that bite the hand that feeds them.”

“I ... hate stories that end in violence.”

“You’re a cute kid. But you will pay attention.” Since Liam was sitting back, not over his waist, the front of Chuck’s jeans were left exposed. Which seemed to be the strategy. As the larger man spoke, the blade pressed a little harder, making a dent in the fabric over the fly. “I told him in no uncertain terms what his punishment would be – and yet he still left you alone. Seems rather reckless, doesn’t it?”

“Casey always has a reason,” Chuck said. Holy Christ. He sucked in a breath as the cool blade slid under his waistband. It felt too snug against his skin to draw in even a sip of oxygen.

He wouldn’t cut him there, would he?

“Still defending your lover ... right to the end, button?” Liam smirked. “I’d be impressed if I wasn’t sick to my stomach.”

There was a small pop as the knife point punctured through the thread. It had held the first button of his jeans. “Are you surprised?” Liam bent forward and reached up, brushed a few damp curls from Chuck’s forehead. Ironic that a gesture, tender from any other hand, made his skin freeze where he touched. “I told him what I would do to you. He knew. And yet ... here you are. Alone with me. What do you think is going through his head right now?”

“Wh-what?”

“Of course I got the message to him, if that’s what you mean.”

Another button cut loose. Chuck felt it, cold as fear, the blade tip directly over his lower abdomen.

“I would ask if you’re a virgin,” Liam commented, a thumb chucking his cheek on the way down to the kid’s chest, rolling over his pec, “but I happen to be well acquainted with your lover, and I know he’d never let anything with quite your sugary scent of innocence slip out of his fingers.”

As Chuck stayed still against the slow glide down his sternum, he digested the fact that he was helpless and alone. He was going to get fucked or jerked off or forced to suck him, and there was nothing he could do.

Never had he wanted someone as dead as the man straddling his legs.

“Pity, though.” Liam gave a dramatic huff. “This would be slightly more intriguing if you were. Untried?” He moved in fast, thrusting a knee between his thighs and pushing a hand on his shoulder. Black eyes hovered over him, filling his vision. “Were you a virgin for him?”

Chuck averted his eyes to the side. “Go to hell.”

“Oh my God, you were,” Liam said, barking out a laugh and thankfully missing the cue. “You fucking little virgin. Were you afraid of him, kid? The first time? He’s a big man, isn’t he?” When he lowered his head, face pressed into the kid’s neck, Chuck felt Liam’s wet lips brush his ear. The breath flooded his veins with ice. “Made you feel good? You like it? Made you a slut, did he.”

Instinct kicked in. Unable to hold still, to be accused of terrible things, Chuck attempted to dislodge the huge man with a knee. He lashed out frantically, but his thigh got trapped next to Liam’s leg. None of the things he tried was working, and he resorted to bucking him in the groin -

“Take it easy, little boy.” Liam grasped his leg and ran a hand up his hip, pushing his fingertips in to hold him still. “I’m going to need that.”

Now the kid couldn’t move. Options were draining out of the room as fast as the oxygen. Only one other thing he could do. If Liam was telling the truth – a big if – the lonely planation was unlikely to attract anyone willing to help him, but he filled his lungs to let out a shout anyway -

“Big mistake, kid.” A hand landed on his larynx. “What did I say about that?”

“Get ofmmph!” Chuck had expected a slap or punch in return, anything to shut him up. What he didn’t expect was to have the words shoved back into his throat by a pair of lips in a punishing kiss. Raw, teeth scraping, hands holding him down.

If he ever had tasted poison, this was it.

As soon as the kid tried to close his mouth, Liam thrust his tongue inside and explored with lewd familiarity, roving and plunging, stealing a deep taste while Chuck desperately attempted to squirm out from under him. But with his arms and hands squashed under the weight of both of them, there was no hope to move. Liam pushed down, seemingly unaffected by the body struggling underneath him.

Then, as suddenly as he had invaded, the larger man pulled back and sat up, still straddling him. He patted Chuck’s cheek, and wiped his own mouth and saliva with his sleeve. “I can see why he wanted to take good care of you, laddie. Such a sweet mouth. I swear you taste like a clean drink of water ... not a stain on you, I bet.”

“I hate you,” Chuck heard his own voice say, hearing the quiver in it. “Get off me.”

Liam shook his head slowly, examining him once more in detail. Without his usual bowler hat cocked on his head, a lock of dark auburn hair came loose and fell across his forehead. His attention returned to the knife, still tucked within his hand. Squinting once at the kid, the blade slid along his abdomen through the arrow of dark hair, making Chuck hitch.

When it plucked another button off, the kid heard it hit the floor, rattling into a corner. He wanted to throw up.

“I’d ask you if you ever had a man take your pants from you before, but I’m certain your lover enjoyed that activity as well.” Liam looked him straight in the eye before he sawed away at the next thread. “Never like this, though, would I guess.”

Chuck held his breath, afraid the knife would sear into his flesh. A trickle of perspiration slid down his ribcage. Soft, like a finger drawing a line over his flesh. He decided to focus on that.

“When the time comes, you can shriek if you like,” Liam murmured, busy on what had to be the last button. “In fact, I’d prefer it that way. Always enjoyable when they show a little spunk, hm?”

Chuck’s fingers twitched underneath him, but he didn’t flail or yell. His chest rose and fell, the elevated breathing pattern showing he was fighting frissons of panic at experiencing the restraints of his touch. The dark insinuation poked into his brain.

Casey was the only man I was ever going to let inside me again ....

“There we have it,” Liam said, pulling the blade away. “Ah, how rude of me. I should’ve asked you before I started – I didn’t just ruin your only pair of blue jeans, did I?”

“He will kill you.” Chuck swallowed and suddenly there wasn’t stifling heat in the tiny bedroom, the faint noise of flies buzzing, or a man pressing him to a bed, preparing to take what didn’t belong to him. There was just his own taut body, laying still, his brown eyes meeting Liam’s. “No matter what happens. He’ll find a way to do it.”

“Oh, there’s the pluck I wanted to see.” Liam rewarded it by running his knuckles over the kid’s cheek. “So nervous, boy. I hear your breath picking up.” His hand drew down to Chuck’s neck, a few fingers settling on his pulse. “And right there. Think I don’t feel your blood hammering?”

There was nothing the kid could say or do to deny it. Hell, it felt like his heart could ram through his chest, or the long vein on is neck would burst. Instead of arguing, he bit down on his bottom lip, not breaking eye contact.

“Good. You’re still watching.” Almost casually, he slowly lowered the knife into Chuck’s view, the point touching the side of his throat. “I just figured out why you’re so afraid.” He let out a mock sigh of resignation and tossed the knife away. Chuck heard it hit with a clunk and slide along the floor. “I forgot to tell you how the story ends.”

In a move Chuck didn’t anticipate, Liam swung his leg off and rose to stand over him. A foot kicked out at one of the chair’s legs, and he dragged it across the floor until it sat at the foot of the bed. “You thought this would be today, I bet. No. Now why would I do that?”

Not today? Chuck blinked a few times. Without the weight holding him down, he was finally able to take a deep breath. He heard his chest rattle, not that he cared anymore.

“Oh, don’t be surprised, kitten,” Liam said, tsking. “Though I would love to test you out – ah, trust me, I would. Mm. I’d like to fuck you until you yell. Maybe until you think your throat will burst. But ... that’ll come tomorrow night – and Johnnie will be sitting in that chair, watching. Watching us. Just as I told him he would.”

Chuck briefly glanced at the empty chair. God, no. He had to close his eyes to block out the vision that had just smacked him around. Casey forced to watch.

“What, does that bother you?” Liam taunted when Chuck fell silent. “Ever do it with an audience? No? Not to worry, long legs. It will be just a one man spectator. I’ll show you everything he forgot to teach you.”

“Honestly, you’ll be too d-dead to show me anything,” Chuck said, though his stomach pitched. A good part of him wanted to curl up in a ball.

“Feisty little shit,” Liam replied, showing his amusement by lifting a brow. “But you wonder why, I bet. The waiting?” He shrugged and lowered his voice, conspiratorial. “I’ll tell you, I have found the human mind to be ... resilient. Funny, isn’t it? It’s what makes us different than rats or snakes, I suppose. After the first time we succumb to pain ... shock, it adapts. It pushes it to the side. Well, with you, my lamb ... that would never do. When your lover is watching, that will be our consummation.”

“You’re thoughtful, really,” Chuck grit out, turning his head to face the wall.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try you out a little first. The kiss was nice. I might be back for more. But I want you suitably motivated for the first time.” There was a pause where Chuck was certain the man checked him out again, maybe where his jeans now fluttered open in a V to reveal a sliver of his underwear. “We want to ensure your lover gets his ... money’s worth.”

Another pause, as if Liam needed to torture him with one more stab of the knife. “After that, you can watch us. Would you like that?”

In response, Chuck slanted his head around to glare.

“Hey, I tried to be nice.” Liam strode over to the side of the bed and dragged a hand down the center of Chuck’s chest. Without a warning, he then shoved the gag back in his mouth. “Don’t you worry, pet,” he went on, threading his fingers through the kid’s curls before using the grip to tip his head up. “I’ll make sure you get some food and water today. Want you with some spirit when it happens.”

The rustling and footsteps told Chuck that Liam would finally leave him there, even if it was to think about it. But he heard the steps gradually slow to a stop at the door. “You know what the greatest pain is, boy?”

Chuck wasn’t about to get pulled in by talking through the gag. Already, he was beginning to shake in reaction. His breath was rasping like sandpaper against his throat. He tightened his arms behind him, angling his line of sight back to the wall again. Go away. I’m not yours.

“Not listening, now? I’ll tell you anyway. Surprising. It’s not death.” Feet shuffling closer to the bed made Chuck tense, but it was only Liam scooping up his hat. Yet he could sense his jailer giving him one more hard look. “It’s watching something you love die.”

x- End Chapter Six Where the Road Ends -x-


	7. Chapter Seven

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Seven

-x-

No one had opened that door in a while.

Casey held very still and waited for his heart to stop hammering.

It was idiotic that he first strained his ears before twisting the knob, a habit formed out of the practice of entering rooms where things sometimes sat in the shadows waiting for him.

Nothing so dicey this time. The worn hinges merely creaked, the door swung open calmly, revealing the clues of the occupant. Casey tilted his head, his eyes tracking around the room and back to the patchwork quilt on the bed. Neatly made. Empty.

There was no way in hell he should’ve left him alone in the workshop last night.

“All this. Just because I wanted you to be safe. Jesus.” Casey glanced around again and entered Chuck’s bedroom quarters uneasily, hastening to shut the door behind him, not able to shake off the feeling he was a thief poaching the goods. That was history.

At first glimpse of the room Chuck had called home for the past four months, Casey couldn’t stop the sense of being punched in the gut. The kid’s markings were everywhere. A stack of books sat next to the bed, a few leather bound classics mixed in with western dime novels. Casey recognized the collection of Old Sleuth Library and Traitor Spy, nothing more than kiddy books Chuck thought no one would know were there if he stuffed them under Principles and Practices of Engineering. Picking one up to sift through it, Casey had to smile. They exposed something boyishly endearing under the intelligent yet quirky surface, the same qualities that had slid their way under Casey’s skin like a blunt saw blade.

Shaking his head, he tucked the flimsy novel back into place. This was not the book he was looking for.

As he stepped over the hooked rug into the center of the room, Casey slid his hat off his head, took a deep breath. It was here, all around. The scent that was only Chuck. The pear soap he liked mingled with traces of freshly-cut wood from his workshop, the hint of it that carried in on his clothes. God, he loved the way he smelled.

A frown etched its way onto his forehead. Casey scrubbed it away with the back of his hand. Surveying the room, he walked over to Chuck’s washstand along one wall, noticing the way he had left his razor and soap as if he was coming right back. When he looked up into the mirror, Casey pictured his partner standing here each morning, wondering, waiting – and stopped himself before the love-struck jackass looking back at him could take it any further. Shit. Lot of good that would do him.

Since there didn’t seem to be anything immediately out of the ordinary, Casey set down his pack and peered out the room’s small window to the backyard beneath him. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the gingham curtain that was tied back, casting a faint, ethereal glow around the room. At least the band of misfits downstairs had the sense to leave him be, allowing him to go up to the room alone. Even the little loud-mouthed moron took the hint.

Where is it? “Not exactly helping me now, are you, Chuck?” Casey asked, returning his focus to the bedroom. Like the rest of Devon’s house, it was fairly bare of everything but the essential furniture: a small chest of drawers along the wall opposite the bed, which on a quick perusal, held very few articles of clothing. Mostly, the top of the dresser was filled with Chuck’s design books and tools, an assortment of half-started, carved pieces the kid called ‘models.’

Casey might’ve called them half-baked nonsense, but he picked one up, wings attached with wire braces no bigger than his hand, and examined it from all sides.

“I can only guess, kid, but I suppose you’ll tell me all about it,” Casey mumbled, setting it down. When he brought Chuck home – not if – Casey figured he’d have to be a bit more tolerant of the gizmos and whatchamacallits, but right now, they were simply a perplexing diversion.

Even though he was tired and everything hurt, there was a certain comfort of being in a place where he could feel his lover’s presence, touch his things. It almost felt as if the door would swing wide, and a pair of arms would wrap around him from behind, gather him into a lean body -

Big breath, stay calm.

“You fucking idiot,” he added to the pair of blues eyes that he caught in the mirror. Being left alone up in Chuck’s room for a few minutes was a luxury he couldn’t afford, yet he had to take advantage of the quiet to form his thoughts. It’d be prudent to strategize without the little moron discussing his slingshot skills, or the dick wad ex-roommate weighing quiet judgement over him.

Casey heaved a sigh. He had that verdict covered, but thanks, pretty-boy asshole. He’d had enough memory lane for now, too.

It had to be here.

Casey strode over to the dresser and turned. He started to pace back but the squeak under his boots snagged his attention. Would the kid make it that simple? Full circle, he thought. He had learned, mostly through watching the chairman of Black Rock, some people just don’t change. They know what works, they stick with it.

And knowing the kid, Casey walked past the bed, toed away the woven rug, and stepped gingerly over the floorboards. Testing, rocking his heel. It was no accident when his ears picked up on a creaking sound at the same time his boot sunk just a hair lower.

“Right there, huh?” Casey halted and got down on his haunches, running a few fingers over the oak slat. As he suspected, one of the floorboards was loose.

Casey felt a spear of something he hadn’t in two days, something like a tiny bit of hope.

“We have to have a long talk about switching up your tactics,” he muttered, joggling the board to loosen it a bit more, “but in this case, I’ll be obliged that you’re a creature of habit, and let it slide.” Goddamn thankful, even.

The cubbyhole was small, smaller than the one Chuck had used up in the barn loft back in Kiowa. It meant the mysterious object was jammed in a bit, forcing Casey to un-wedge it from the corners before he could free it from the dark. Tread carefully, his brain warned, sounding oddly like the kid.

Casey lifted the Cipher out of its hidden well, brushed off the fine layer of dust. “The trouble you’ve caused ....” he murmured. The thick tome was heavier than he remembered. Corners were worn with some leather missing. A few pages were loose, the frayed edges folded. He could only guess the reason for the water damage from generations ago, but the binding seemed strong.

Funny, but the crinkled leather hardcover reminded him of weathered skin, same as an ancient cowboy he had once met in Cripple Creek who spent every living day out in the sun.

It was cool to the touch, mustier now that it had been trapped here for months. As Casey’s fist tightened around it, he eased back, leaning his shoulders against the edge of the mattress. His eyes took in the details he had forgotten, trying not to ask himself if it really did hold all of the misery the kid revealed to him, or was it just filled with a bunch of bunk.

Either way, didn’t matter. Now that he had it, it was a card he could play. Never had an ace in the hole like this one, either.

“Looking for this ... aren’t you, daddy?” Casey ran his thumb down the wide binding, surprised that he had no desire to flop it open out of curiosity. Another minute he stayed seated on the floor, hearing the sound of the back door opening and closing. The muffled voices of his damn pathetic posse crossing the back yard. No one could know how hard this part was for him.

He had to ask himself one thing. Could they do this? In reality he didn’t know yet how he wouldn’t get them killed. In reality he was too wired to set it straight while looking in those expectant faces.

Hell, especially the girl. Those hazel eyes could sink a man into the ground. Leave a killer in a pool of his own remorse.

Somewhere in the house, a clock struck the hour. Two o’clock already. Casey balanced the book on his knees and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wanted to shout and rage and spin in circles, the way his mind was doing, and for once not be the rock wall. Yeah, a fucking lot of good that would do.

Given that they could be going in blind, stripped of their weapons – and Chuck could be hurt or gone – Casey still hesitated to drag them in. A voice in the back of his mind said he’d never live with that guilt.

Another voice, louder, leaned in and whispered Casey’s own words to him. There at the end, when Casey wasn’t being sure of himself, of what was happening and where they were going, Chuck was.

‘If you don’t trust your eyes or your senses, do you at least trust me? Don’t need a compass for that, do you, John?’

Casey ran his thumb over the binding again with a different intent. As he studied the Cipher, he had to smile, remembering the kiss that was still making his lips tingle. Last night, Chuck had looked at him like he was the entire universe. With Casey, when he looked at the person he loved, he saw something else. His own compass, disguised as a brown-eyed kid who had a strange power. One that had nothing to do with a damn haunted manuscript.

“God, kid .... You better be right about this.”

He inhaled everything familiar one more time, which was an answer all in itself. “Looks like you decided for me this time.” He wasn’t out of his mind. It was Chuck’s whisper of a reminder between his ears, telling him what he’d be walking into. What he needed to do.

Casey opened the Cipher and skimmed, finding the page he was looking for. It had been months, but he remembered the drawing. He could almost smell the burning grass or imagine the red-tailed hawk in flight. Swooping over the trees, suddenly a winged pyre. The predator, consumed.

And time was fleeting, Casey decided.

That was when he got up to go find a satchel, a safe place to hide the book.

-x-

Casey understood that there would be hell to pay at some point with the sister, but there was no way around it. Nothing was ever going to be simple or routine when it came to his relationship with her younger brother. But they were a long way from being able to sit down and chat it out – never was the preferred timeframe for that little tete a tete – and he couldn’t let anything distract him from what he knew had to be done.

When he came down the stairs and into the kitchen, there was passing relief that they didn’t immediately set upon him with more questions, but it was simply because the others were gone. Oh, yes. There would be hell to pay, and he knew where to start looking.

Going out the back door, Casey followed the sound of voices, down the dirt path Chuck had to have taken every day. It led him along the edge of Devon’s garden and finally out to the workshop.

“Hey, this is kind of nifty,” he heard someone saying. “I wonder what it is.”

Even if Casey rounded the corner of the paddock door five seconds earlier, it would’ve been too late to stop Morgan, slippery little fingers outstretched, from touching a movable part of the flying machine. The too-tempting apparatus that had caught his attention sat on a box like-structure, directly behind a flat platform between the wings.

Or, Casey thought more aptly, the exact place where a man would rest his body right before he died, if that damnable thing ever got off the ground.

Casey had a long list of reasons why he didn’t want Chuck jumping off a cliff in the crazy machine, but on this point, the last thing he could tolerate was seeing Morgan rotating the thingamajig back and forth.

“Wow,” Morgan said. “The prototype at the farm didn’t have -”

“Mind getting your fu- eh hand off that thing?” Casey asked, remembering his manners around the lady a bit too late. He sauntered past the doorway. “Unless you don’t mind having it torn off.”

Morgan jolted and flung his hand back. “But Chuck never minded before when I -”

“I mind,” Casey said gruffly. “Besides, maybe he didn’t tell you, but the kid hates it when you touch his things without asking.”

“He’s right.” Ellie folded her arms over the rose-hued day dress and lifted her brows in a blatant accusation. “Chuck doesn’t like any man to take liberties with him. Mr. Casey would know, I’d wager.”

At least she’d called him by his name, rather than Lucifer. Maybe there was hope she would get over being mad-as-blazes at him.

For now Casey avoided her gaze, guiltily looking away, pinning his attention on the little cretin. Considering the depth of his relationship with Chuck was now out in the wide open, he had to wonder how much awkwardness they would have to withstand every time he opened his mouth. It wasn’t as if he molested the kid.

Well, okay, but it was purely consensual.

“Hands,” Casey repeated.

“Wow, easy, man, easy.” Morgan gave him a placating smile and kept his palms in the air. “I just wanted to see what it does.”

“Yeah, well there’s this little thing” - Casey held up his thumb and forefinger close together - “called my patience that should stop you from doing that.”

“All righty.” Morgan made a point of shoving his hands in his pockets.

With Morgan suitably chastised, Casey paused, dialed back his frustration and turned to the doctor and Bryce, who were leaning against the kid’s workbench and deep within a conversation that Casey had no desire to hear. “You girls about done,” he asked both of them, folding his arms over his chest in case there was any ambiguity around the answer, “or is there more idle chit-chat you haven’t covered yet.”

“Oh, sorry. We were just comparing notes,” Devon said, boosting a smile in place. “Did you know Chuck won the Putnam Mathematical Competition his senior year at Harvard?”

Casey stared in utter disregard. This meant something in the language of bookworms and geeks, and knowing the kid, it shouldn’t surprise him. “Really, he did all that, huh? Didn’t take that from him, too, Larkin?” While you were poaching his virginity?

Bryce glared at him, lips pressed tight together. “Yes, he did. I’m certain you’ve never heard of it, being that it’s an honor in academia. Because I can explain what it means, if you need me to, Casey. Or perhaps a drawing,” and he flashed him a bogus smile, “would better suit you?”

“Yes, why don’t you do that,” Casey said, casually moving his right hand to rest on his holster. “And then I can explain to you what a man’s heart feels like when you rip it out of his chest with your bare hands. Damndest thing, too. Usually beats a couple more times until you stomp on it really good with the heel of your boot. Ever hear of that?”

Casey’s eyes then narrowed, warning him that Bryce’s high-handedness was duly noted and absolutely going to get his ass kicked.

Bryce tried to hide it, but his quick shirking motion indicated the memo had been received.

Good. Casey threw him one more dire squint anyway.

A hand rapped on the kid’s workbench, drawing the heed of both men. Having assumed the role of peacekeeper, Devon stepped between them with a concerned smile. “Everything okay, guys?”

“Just peachy.” And Casey’s look said that if Bryce’s head were a peach, he’d be tearing out the pit right now. “Thanks for asking.”

Devon’s intervention gave Bryce another shot of bravado. He cocked his head at Casey, and then said to the doctor, “We were just talking about the marvels of the human body. Something you can relate to, I’m sure.”

“Well, yes, I can,” Devon said, “but at this minute, you know who” – and he tipped his head towards Ellie, who had her eyes fixed on the flying machine – “wants to know how we plan on getting her little brother back home safely. And right now, I don’t have a good answer for that.”

Casey’s attention returned to the girl, making it difficult not to notice physical similarities she shared with her sibling. Lithe bodies, though she seemed to have an air of confidence with her movements that the kid hadn’t grown into yet. Maybe he never would, and Casey would be fine with that. Part of his appeal. “You don’t need the answer,” he said.

“Why not?” Devon asked.

“Because I have one,” Casey promised in hopes of breaking the tension.

“Let’s hear it.” Bryce gave one succinct nod. “So far, I’m less than impressed.”

As much as Casey wanted to test the ‘pounding heart in the hand theory’, he knew it’d have to wait. Without even sparing Bryce a glimpse, he walked over to where Ellie and Morgan stood. From what he could hear, it sounded like the little man was trying to keep her entertained to deter her worries.

“Hey, here’s something else I bet you didn’t know,” Morgan was in the middle of explaining, “did Chuck ever tell you how many buckeyes I can stuff in my mouth and still breathe?”

Ellie moved her head side to side, looking confused.

Casey rolled his eyes, wondering what that number was plus one. “You. Moron. Over there, with the other two.”

“Uh, I should go now.” After Morgan shuffled away, Casey watched the girl out of the corner of his eye. Maybe a minute to let her clear the air would help. Problem was, that was about all they had.

Mercifully, it was obvious Ellie had only given him a fraction of her concentration. Instead, she seemed mesmerized with an inspection of the flying machine, as if weighing the amount of blood and sweat and brain matter her brother had put into it. Silence thickened between them for several moments. Her trance was broken only when she caught Casey trying not to keep an eye on her.

“Chuck’s going to finish it,” Ellie announced firmly. Casey hated that her chin trembled. Exhaling an impatient sigh, she ran a hand along one of the wooden braces that reinforced the upper and lower wings. When it reached the lower span, she flattened her palm on it, fingers spread, maybe finding comfort in something her lost brother had touched, put together with his hands. “After he ... gets back, we’re going to make sure he can finish this.”

Casey mulled it over. “That kid’s too damn stubborn not to,” he said.

Ellie acknowledged the truth with a strained smile. “You’ve been very vague, Mr. Casey, and I think I deserve to know what your intentions are. How do you plan on freeing my brother from your boss?”

“It will happen,” Casey heard himself tell the girl.

Her lips firming, Ellie turned determinedly towards him. As badly as she might’ve wanted to square off with him, the woman knew her brother’s future depended on their actions in the next twenty-four hours. Today and tomorrow, that was it. “I swear to God, if that man hurts one hair on his head, I’ll hunt him down myself. And I don’t give a damn what you think he’s capable of doing to us. He’ll regret the day he crossed my family.”

Chuck had mentioned his sister was a strong woman. To be safe, Casey made a mental note never to give her the illusion he had crossed the kid, though he had no intention of doing so. Still, he guessed she could be a bitch riding in on a dozen flame-eating steeds without trying too hard when it came to her baby brother.

An unlikely partnership, but he guessed it gave them something in common.

Casey scrubbed his hand down one cheek and turned to the unlikely trio standing off to the side. “Enough. Time to listen up.”

Devon approached, loosening the small tie from around his neck, already convinced he would need to change from his usual natty attire. “I’m ready. Just say the word, bro. I’ve got your back.”

“At your service,” Morgan said, right up on Devon’s heels.

Bryce was slow to swagger over behind him. “Ready to impart your wisdom on us?”

After an initial squint to shut the fuck up, Casey ignored him, dividing his focus instead between Devon and Morgan, who straightened and kept quiet. “I have an idea, but I’m not going to blow sunshine up your hind quarters. It’s a hell of a risky plan.” Folding his arms over his chest, he let them weigh his words as he continued to eye them. “One more chance. If someone wants to back out, they should do it now. No questions, no accusations. Just walk out.”

Casey looked around, waiting. How sweet. They have no idea.

“Hey, I’m in, man,” Morgan promised. “I didn’t come this far to go back home. This is it. Wow. Just like The Three Musketeers. Oh, plus one, I guess,” he added, glancing at Bryce. “Is this the part where I can ask questions? Good, because, here’s the thing: this doesn’t mean we’re using swords, does it? Because, ah, well, let’s just say I left my handy rapier at home.”

Casey reflected that perhaps he should stuff the little troll into the tool chest and stick with a three man operation. Some credit for the moron, but the hard stare was enough to shut him up.

“No question about it. This is Chuck we’re talking about.” Devon hitched his head towards Ellie briefly and removed the tie altogether. “I’m in, bro.”

That left one man. They all turned, waiting.

Bryce approached Chuck’s makeshift desk next to the flying machine, flattened his hands on the cluttered surface, and looked him in the eyes. “If I agree, I’d like to know what I’m signing up for. Why don’t you spell it all out first?”

Devon’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, bro? He was your best friend.”

“It’s only fair.” Bryce’s shrug that lifted his shoulders was non-committal. “For one, I’d like to know how badly you’ve pissed this man off. The one you let take Chuck in the first place?”

Casey struggled to ungrit his teeth. Why he didn’t pulverize the little shit, he didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to give the wrong impression to the sister. The whole ‘outlaw killer’ thing didn’t seem to set with her too well.

Instead, Casey crossed in front of Bryce, making the shorter man crane his neck to meet his eyes. “Before you say anything else, Larkin,” he said curtly, “I’m going to explain to you the way it’s going to be. There is no committee. There are no goddamn negotiations. There is no democracy. Every one of you, and that includes you, will obey my orders. To the letter.” Casey paused, and the growl that emerged from between his teeth had the twit backing up a step. “Any part of this befuddling to you, college boy?”

“I think I’m capable of getting the message, Mr. Casey.” The stilted nod gave away Bryce’s unease. “Forget I asked.”

“I already have.”

“What about me?” Ellie’s interruption broke off the stare down between Casey and Bryce. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” Casey answered.

“Nothing?” That certainly got the stubborn girl to stand on her toes. “I refuse to just sit back and do nothing while you risk your necks. I’m going with you.”

“The hell you are.”

Ellie shook her head, her lush mane of dark hair bouncing around her slender shoulders. “Why not?”

“There is no way I’m putting the kid’s sister in danger.” And last I checked, you’re a woman, Casey almost added, but managed to bite that off before it slipped out.

Ellie turned her piercing eyes on him as if she had heard it anyway. “Mr. Casey, I assure you I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Ellie, there are other ways you can help your brother,” Devon offered up.

“Like how?” she tossed back.

“By, trusting Casey – I know, I know,” Devon went on quickly when she opened her mouth to reply, “but no one knows this ... man who has your brother better than Casey, and if he thinks Chuck might be ... in danger right now – well ....”

Casey’s brain filled in an even darker scenario, one he had to shove to the side. It wasn’t something anyone in this room needed to hear.

“I’m really trying to trust you, Devon,” Ellen said. “But ....” When she glanced at Casey, he couldn’t help but notice how she left him out of the trust equation. That kind of math had always evaded him.

“Then trust me when I say Chuck is going to need you,” Devon gently challenged. “Listen, I have a little bit of experience in knowing what happens when people have been through a ... well, a traumatic situation. Your brother is going to need you. He’ll need ... someone in his family to come home to. Believe it or not, that’s why you have to stay safe, Ellie. Hey, it still makes us a team – and your role more important than any of us.”

Son of a bitch. Good going, doc. Somewhere at the midpoint of that less than bolstering speech, Ellie had gone dead pale. “I ... see,” she said quietly, putting her hand under her throat. “I’ll be here, then. Whatever Chuck needs. After all, I am studying to be a doctor.”

Devon blinked, stunned just a little. “You are?”

A woman. Heh.

Startled to alertness, a moment was required for Casey to realize he had said that aloud.

Ellie’s gaze narrowed. Oh, hell.

“You seem surprised by this, Mr. Casey. You believe women aren’t capable of practicing medicine, I suppose? Afraid we can’t be exposed to indelicacies? Or are you more inclined to the traditional way of thinking. That we have insufficient stamina? Or not being a member of the stronger sex has rendered us incompetent?”

“Whatever problems I see with it,” Casey grumbled, “I only meant -”

“Problems? So there are too many to list?”

“Just feels like women shouldn’t be pushing their noses into the private areas of the male anatomy, that’s all.”

Amazing how the girl could both cringe and rear up like a bobcat at the same time. “I assure you, women are quite capable of deciding what should be shoved where when it comes to a man’s anatomy.”

“I only meant that when it comes to females and doctoring, there are things best, uh...”

“Bro, you’re not helping yourself,” Devon said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Best you stop now.”

“Hey, come on, what’s the fun in that?” Bryce urged, coming to life. “I’d love to hear the John Casey Rules of the Role of Women in Modern Society. Wouldn’t you, Ellie?”

“The doctor has a point,” Casey said. “Question isn’t relevant. Now, we can sit here on our collective asses discussing the marvels of the fairer sex –“ What the hell does that look mean? What did I say now, dammit? -“or you can all close your mouths and listen up, and I’ll explain really slowly for the numb nuts in the crowd how you can have a hand in bringing that kid back home.” Casey tucked his thumbs in his holster and took his time eyeing each one. “Which is it going to be?”

Ellie fidgeted with a strand of pearls around her neck. “Well, that’s one thing that Mr. Casey has right, at least. We’re wasting time.” The abrupt change in her expression made him aware she’d let it go, even if she meant to make him pay for it later. For now, she locked her sights on Bryce. “I heard Devon and ... even this Morgan fellow say he’s in. What about you, Bryce? Are you in? Can you abide by Mr. Casey’s rules?”

The move was a brilliant one on her part, putting Bryce in the spotlight. The pretty boy stewed for a spell longer, and without a choice, he merely shrugged. “I’m in. What do I need to do?”

“Oh, I have a special job for you,” Casey said, inwardly smirking. He left him to wonder and turned to Devon. “How long have you lived in Beaufort?”

“All my life. Why?”

“Know the county well, I hope?” Casey prompted carefully. “Roads, farms, anything off the beaten path?”

Devon nodded. “Well, you can say that, bro. Considering old Doc McPherson passed away two years ago, I’m the only doctor in three counties. I think I know every road and goat trail from here to Oak Grove. Why is that important?”

“Good.” Casey turned his back on Devon, brushing off the question, and tried not to think of just how many ways this could still end up in the shitter. “You two snapperheads will stay here,” he told Morgan and Bryce. “I’ll let you know when I need you.”

“Isn’t that now?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, we can use some grub,” was Casey’s sarcastic reply. “Woodcomb. Where’s the Wells Fargo office?”

“Uh, kitty corner from the courthouse.”

“We’ll talk on the way.” Casey hitched a thumb towards the door. “Saddle up.”

“I guess I better get moving, then.” Devon let go of his confusion by snagging the horse tack from a hook. “I’ll need to –”

“Wait a minute.” Ellie held up her hands. Her brows had reared up again expectantly. “That’s it? Saddle up? What am I going to do until you get back?”

On some level, a voice told Casey he should bite his lip from offering up Morgan’s assigned women’s work. ‘To the kitchen and making supper, pronto’ probably wouldn’t set well with the kid’s big sister, and he was already miles away the catbird seat.

Casey reflected on that question without looking over at the resentment he knew had claimed Bryce’s face. He had to be honest with her, with himself. “Follow me,” Casey said softly. “Outside. Just for a minute,” he added when he noticed Ellie was off put by the demand.

Ellie met his gaze with anxiousness in hers. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone with him. Whatever it was, the woman took her time before she squared her shoulders and let him lead her out of the barn to a shady spot under the wide reaching branches of an oak tree.

“You have my attention now, Mr. Casey,” Ellie said. “What is it?”

Casey glanced past her shoulder towards the workshop. Bryce had already admitted he had been contacted by Chuck’s dear old dad. He would be an idiot not to have suspicions regarding the other man’s motives. He suspected Ellie had a few of her own. “There is something you can do.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t trust Larkin,” Casey answered, his voice low enough to keep it from carrying to the others. “No, don’t look over at the barn,” he whispered as soon as she started to turn. Waiting until she refocused, he went on, “He’s probably watching us through the window, and if you look, he’ll know this is about him.”

Ellie straightened and waited for him to continue.

“Devon and I are going to be gone for a few hours. I’d like you to keep an eye on him while we’re gone. Think you can do that?”

The insinuation that she needed to have an iota of trust in Casey sat between them in a heavy silence for a long minute. “You have reasons to doubt why he’s here?”

“Yes. I don’t want to explain it now, but I have a hunch you might feel the same way.”

Ellie chewed on her bottom lip for a second before she conceded with a nod. “I do. I – well, I can’t put my finger on it but ... something happened between Bryce and Chuck. Back at school. My brother would never talk about it. Chuck ... kept secrets, even from me.”

Disgust and anger welled up in Casey’s chest. Yeah, and there’re a few whoppers that would make her perfect little straw hat spin.

“What if he leaves?” Ellie hugged her arms to her pleated bodice. “Should I follow him?”

Casey shook his head. “Hell, no – I mean, that wouldn’t be prudent, Miss.”

“But what good does that do?”

Casey ushered her further away from the barn by beginning to walk up the path towards the house. “By telling me how long he was gone, which direction he went in, and any clues in the way he acted. Any strange looks or behavior before and after he gets back – if he does leave. Just keep an eye on him. You’re a woman. I know you can pick up on those things better than the little twerp in there.”

“You’re asking me to trust you.” They definitely would have a thousand bridges to cross to get there, her tone said.

Casey snorted. “Maybe my nurturing nature fooled you, but I know there’s less of a chance of that than my horse over there sprouting wings and shooting steam out of her arse like an engine. I’m only asking that you do this because you wanted to know how you could help ... and I think in the end we both ... want the same thing.” Damn. Desperate, too.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“And I know you’ll keep it between us.”

She frowned again but nodded.

“Good, then.” Casey ducked his head at her and gestured for Ellie to follow him back to the barn where the men waited. “Still standing around, Woodcomb?” he rumbled as he entered.

The doctor jolted. He hadn’t been spying, but Bryce moved away from the window and stuck his hands in his pockets. Nice try, swanky twit. “I’ll get my horse,” Devon said. He flashed a nervous, quick-silver smile at Ellie first. “I’ll meet you at front of the house.”

When Devon exited through the paddock door, Casey turned to see the dwarf had his hand in the air, looking dejected. “Question, sir, if you don’t mind.”

“What?” Casey growled in a way that should’ve backed him up.

“Well.” Morgan exchanged an uncomfortable look with Bryce, who was leaning against the workbench and glaring at Casey. “What are we are we supposed to do? Bryce and I?”

Casey narrowed his eyes at the twerp. “You said you needed shootin’ practice.”

“Yeah, man, I’ve only shot coffee cans from twenty-five feet, and even Chuck beat me!”

“Hell, and here I was wondering how this could get worse,” Casey muttered, pushing his hat back on his head. He had seen the kid shoot before. Not a pretty sight. “Bryce can help you.”

“Why me?” Bryce asked.

“I said so.”

“Great.” Morgan eagerly snatched his shiny pistol from the pouch of his holster. The whole damn get-up looked barely used. “Is he an expert marksman, like Hickok?”

Casey grunted and made a cursory examination of the kid’s ex-friend. “No, but he’ll make a helluva target if he stands downwind about thirty yards.”

-x-

A sharp tapping on the door made him jump and spring backwards. Confined in the tight space, it only took a second until he felt his back hit the wall. Amazing that he could still react to anything. By now, the kid thought his jangled nerves had been reduced to a pile of dust. Silver lining, he supposed bitterly.

“You done in there?” The tapping was louder against the plank door this time, rattling it on crooked hinges. “Come on, Nancy. Git moving.”

Oh, god, god, god. Chuck held his breath, partly because it felt like he could disappear if he ceased to fill his lungs, and partly for the godawful stench that arose from the hole. At least there was a round rough-hewn cut out in the wooden bench, and he wasn’t forced to squat over the ground.

“Yoo hoo, little rabbit,” a voice called, sing-song, from right outside. “You wanna come out? Or are you scairt?” The man laughed, a grating sound of a throat caked with tobacco. “Maybe you decided to run down the hole, is that it, rabbit boy?”

The kid didn’t move at first, then reached out to draw his hands in front of him in fists. Clench, relax. The tingling, like the tiny legs of bees droning and settling on his arms and neck, had started to dissipate a few minutes ago now that he was alone. But the taunting slammed it back at him. Chuck braced his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his hands. They came back dripping with sweat.

Hiding out in a rickety outhouse probably wasn’t the go-to move his lover would’ve elected, but then again the kid didn’t have an arsenal strapped to his body. Hell, Chuck didn’t even have a shirt on his back anymore. He’d been stripped half naked sometime during his forced nap and unfortunate road trip – though being clocked in the head seemed to be the least of his worries. At least he had his blue jeans, torn up pretty badly by now, but the worst part was trying to keep his pants up around his skinny hips. Thanks to the giant asshole, the buttons were lying somewhere on the floor of the tiny bedroom where he had been stashed, and no one had offered up a belt.

Great. Chuck knew it was all a deliberate ploy to keep him feeling exposed, to make him play back the revolting threat in his mind. Well, he wasn’t going to do it. Not again. Not over and over -

***

“I would ask if you’re a virgin,” Liam commented, a thumb chucking his cheek on the way down to the kid’s chest, rolling over his pec, “but I happen to be well acquainted with your lover, and I know he’d never let anything with quite your sugary scent of innocence slip out of his fingers.”

Never had he wanted someone as dead as the man straddling his legs.

“Pity, though.” Liam gave a dramatic huff. “This would be slightly more intriguing if you were. Untried?” He moved in fast, thrusting a knee between his thighs and pushing a hand on his shoulder. Black eyes hovered over him, filling his vision. “Were you a virgin for him?”

Chuck averted his eyes to the side. “Go to hell.”

“Oh my God, you were,” Liam said, barking out a laugh and thankfully missing the cue. “You fucking little virgin. Were you afraid of him, kid? The first time? He’s a big man, isn’t he?” When he lowered his head, face pressed into the kid’s neck, Chuck felt Liam’s wet lips brush his ear. The breath flooded his veins with ice. “Made you feel good? You like it? Made you a slut, did he.”

In a move Chuck didn’t anticipate, Liam swung his leg off and rose to stand over him. A foot kicked out at one of the chair’s legs, and he dragged it across the floor until it sat at the foot of the bed. “You thought this would be today, I bet. No. Now why would I do that?”

Not today? Chuck blinked a few times.

“Oh, don’t be surprised, kitten,” Liam said, tsking. “Though I would love to test you out – ah, trust me, I would. Mm. I’d like to fuck you until you yell. Maybe until you think your throat will burst. But ... that’ll come tomorrow night – and Johnnie will be sitting in that chair, watching. Watching us. Just as I told him he would.”

Chuck briefly glanced at the empty chair. God, no. He had to close his eyes to block out the vision that had just smacked him around. Casey forced to watch.

“What, does that bother you?” Liam taunted when Chuck fell silent. “Ever do it with an audience? No? Not to worry, long legs. It will be just a one man spectator. I’ll show you everything he forgot to teach you.”

***

Why are you doing this?

“God, now what,” Chuck whispered and tried to peer through a crack in the door. Not that he knew the creepy protocols of hostage treatment, but honestly, Chuck still couldn’t believe that he had talked the brown-toothed man into taking him outside rather than pulling up an old bucket, sliding it next to the bed, and making him do his business in that. Though, now that he was really not thinking about it, nothing was more humiliating than what Liam had already done to him.

That wasn’t true, either. Liam was the kind of man who seemed capable of much more.

Okay, you did it again. Shaking his head, Chuck closed his eyes and listened. Maybe the man thought it was a game to be quiet now, make him wonder. It wasn’t a lie that he had needed to take care of his business, but he still shuddered at having to use a handful of dry leaves, scattered on the dirt floor under his feet, to clean himself.

“Jerk ... bastard,” Chuck muttered a little louder. He let his eyes drift around the tiny outhouse as if something still could jump out to save him. Fat chance of that.

Chuck leaned forward, his heart pounding. Funny, but outside, there wasn’t even a sound now except the breeze ruffling the branches overhead. Had the man walked away? Distracted by god-knows-what?

The kid stood and peeked through a tiny opening along the hinges, doing his best to ruck up his jeans past the low point they had found, barely covering the dark arrow of hair down his belly. Perfect. Add indecent exposure to his list of humiliations.

Not able to worry about that, Chuck frowned and cocked his head. Still not a sound. Are you there?

This could be his only chance. This very second. Not five minutes from now when he was attached to a bed like a ... waiting whore.

Don’t let him get in your head.

But how stupid would the man, apparently his own version of a cigarette-sucking, vulgar bodyguard, need to be to let him out twice?

Before he could chicken out, he reached for the rope twisted around a wooden knob, serving as the only ‘lock.’ His knuckles tightened. He gave it a small push.

This really was it.

The kid forced himself to swallow through a throat threatening to close up. It didn’t seem to help to remind himself that the man probably had a gun. But he had to do it, he had to try.

So Chuck dragged in a harsh breath, and made a decision. Without troubling to see where he was going, the kid counted to three and burst out of the tiny shanty, stretching his long legs and pushing his body to move.

No bullets whizzing by yet. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him.

The forest, lush and green and filled with possible hiding places, was directly in front of him. He pelted over the ground, towards an opening between two trees. By the time the kid got a dozen strides behind him, he was already fighting tangled brush and tall grass under his bare feet.

Chuck dared to turn his head to get a better look at the clearing, though he wanted nothing more than to be able to fly. The angle of the sun made it difficult to see, but he got a vague impression of a man standing in front of a prickly gorse bush with his pecker out of his pants. Pissing, which explained why he was quiet.

“Hey. Hey!” the man yelled when he finally realized both his cock and his captive were on the loose. “Get the fuck back here!”

Chuck sped up, pushing through the spindly bramble that hooked on his pants. When he glanced to the right, he nearly bounced off a tree trunk, rebounded and fled blindly, branches scratching his chest and arms. Crap! His ankle almost turned as he avoided a hole and stumbled over a fallen log. He had no room for pain or any rational thought. He only needed to flee from the white plantation house, from everything -

He missed it completely. A heavy weight swung out from a tree and struck him in the chest. And while Chuck’s torso exploded and he cried out, another weight, an arm, shoved him hard.

Chuck pitched backwards at full length, landing with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. Oh damn. With his luck, he had found a patch of loose dirt, and as he tried to push himself to his feet, he ended up slipping awkwardly on his elbows. A rock gouged into his bare shoulders, but he groped again for something, anything, to get away.

“What the – what the hell – let me –” One hand, no two big hands. Chuck tried to shove them away, but he was roughly slammed to the ground. There had to be more he could do.

The kid pushed up again, arms and legs scrabbling, with the chance for escape right there if he could just -

And that was when he saw how he ended up in the dirt.

Standing there, looking completely unruffled save for his crooked bowler hat, was Liam. Looming over him like a grizzly bear from his worst nightmare.

“What the devil do you mean by running away like that?” he demanded. A thick lock of hair fell across his forehead, curving over his brow. A strange reminder of how it had fallen like that when he had a restraining hold over Chuck in the bedroom. Touching him with intimate familiarity.

“No – you can’t – you –” was all he could say before a pistol appeared in Liam’s hand. Gritting his teeth, panic making Chuck sweat and want to holler, he jockeyed his leg up – and managed to kick Liam solidly in the abdomen.

“Little bastard ....” Liam growled.

Chuck saw the butt of the pistol coming and reacted on instinct, bringing up his hands. The blow caught him right on the chin, sending sparks dancing across the edges of his vision. Tears welled up in his eyes. Where in the hell had Liam come from?

Giving Chuck an excuse to scowl up at him in pain, Liam leaned down and grasped him by the arms. “Get over here.”

“L-Liam, no.” Fingers dug in and dragged him closer. The kid struggled, trying to drive a knee up, but succeeded in only toppling the larger man down over his body. The wind was knocked from his lungs in one frightening, intense whoosh. Oh, shit, shit. When Casey called him by his pet name, pancake, he never, ever meant it in this scary scenario, Chuck would bet. “I can’t ... move!”

Surprisingly enough, Liam’s sudden sprawling position, and all the squirming underneath him that came with it, seemed to make his annoyance vanish. Automatically, the giant jerk grinned down at him. “Want to make me hard, do you?”

“Asshole.” Chuck tried to push himself up again. Did he have any chance of moving someone the size of Casey? It didn’t matter, he gave him a shove, but it only confirmed his hunch. Hell, no, he couldn’t.

“After our talk this morning, I didn’t think you wanted it yet, laddie,” Liam said with a chuckle. “I’ll be most willing to oblige you, too, but it happens you’ve chosen a rather ill-timed moment. Our partner hasn’t arrived yet, has he?”

“Get up – get off me!” Chuck looked up into his leer and gave a last ditch effort to buck him off. Hands grabbed his arms and legs, held him down. He kicked. Elbowed. Bit at the enormous palm covering his shoulder.

“Sweet meat, you need to settle down,” Liam said, inspecting Chuck’s face idly. “This might help.” All in all, more shocking than being cranked to the jaw was what came next. Liam ducked his head and kissed him, swallowing the protest by plunging his tongue into his mouth, rough and biting. He tasted like tobacco and smoke, those tiny cigarettes of his. Then, like a switch had turned, he pulled back.

Chuck spit.

Grinning, Liam patted Chuck’s cheek. “Quite sweet, kid, but I have something to take care of right now.”

Liam lifted his head and his arm swung up, pendulum in motion. The gun barrel loomed, wide and huge, like a cannon hovering in his line of sight. When the pistol barked once, Chuck flinched and closed his eyes. The next time, he flinched again.

The third time, his limbs had frozen. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

God, this was screwed up. Men didn’t die like that. Chuck turned his head and stared in shock at his brown-toothed caretaker. Former caretaker, his wobbling brain corrected. The crony fell to his knees on the ground, shaking, howling as his hand traveled down to his stomach. The kid blinked, not really seeing anything else but the spreading stain, inky and wet against his blue shirt.

“Can’t follow simple instructions,” Liam informed the dying man, writhing on the ground. “I said watch him. And I said I need him in one piece – alive and kicking.”

Chuck held very still. His eyes burned.

He killed him. My fault.

“You still like to kick?” Swinging his head down to study Chuck, Liam seemed darkly amused that the kid had stopped his wriggling. Maybe he liked the idea that cold fear froze him to the ground. “C’mere, boy,” he said, hauling him to his feet. “Back to the bedroom with you. No more of that twisting under me.” One of those huge hands came down his back and cupped a buttock roughly, squeezed. “Not until tonight. Then we’ll have our fun, eh?”

x- End Chapter Seven Where the Road Ends -x-


	8. Chapter Eight

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Eight

-x-

Casey closed the hotel door behind him, grateful there had been no one out in the hallway. He got tired of hearing the cheerful voices of the staff or the other guests. At last, he could get away from the blinding sunshine and the already sweltering heat of a day.

The wheels were beginning to turn. The stops in town with the doctor in tow had gone without a hitch. After watching Devon and Morgan saddle up, reassuring the sister, it was then just a matter of grabbing Bryce and dragging him back to the hotel. Casey wasn’t lying to the punk when he said he had a special role just for him all picked out.

Hey, he was the most expendable out of the troop of dimwits.

It was a gamble, the entire plan, starting with coming back to the room with the fancy turd, but it was the only way to get a head start. All the tracking and spying in the world wouldn’t help pick out the man Liam would send to the hotel room for him. There was no sense in establishing where he came from in the first place, either, because no one that obvious would lead him back to Chuck. Just another way to keep him blind.

Liam’s translation, Fuck you, John Casey.

“Don’t touch anything,” Casey ordered Bryce without looking up. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw as he stuffed a dozen or so extra cartridges in his vest. Normally, it was Bryce causing the spasms, but at the moment his thoughts had gone to the two other doofuses. If it came down to a shoot-out – and he guessed it would - the doctor and the troll may not be much help. He had to remind himself that the devil disguised as the Chairman of Black Rock may still find a way to serve them an ambush on a platter. And the two misfits seemed helpless with guns. What the hell would they do if they were stripped of their weapons?

“Chuck isn’t the only one who doesn’t like someone touching his toys, hm?” Bryce asked, wandering around the room.

“You might want to stay away from the window, too.”

Wisely, Bryce halted before he reached the pane that allowed a view out onto the wide front porch of the Beaulieu Grande. “Why’s that?”

“Too tempting,” Casey said, packing away the bullets. “Might just wanna go with Plan A and toss you out there anyway.” Picturing it, he let out a contemplative grunt. “Those swanky types in the lobby thought the way I was dressed was worth raising a few eyebrows. Wonder what the sight of your mashed-up body would do to them. Guess it would be worth the risk of upsetting the ladies sipping tea down there to find out, eh?”

Bryce gave him an icy look. Proving he wasn’t a complete idiot, he did stay clear of the window, which secretly amused the fuck out of Casey. “Why do you hate me, anyway?”

“We don’t have time to get into all of that. If you want to be part of this team, you need to show that you can follow orders. Your ride will be here any minute.”

“Glad we had this talk, Casey,” Bryce said. “I guess that’s the privilege of being part of your team. Threats of bodily harm. Because I swear just an hour ago, you threatened to put your boot up my ass if I couldn’t recite each step of your vaunted strategy until my tongue bled.”

“If it’s any consolation, I gave the little bearded moron the same lecture.” Casey checked the barrel of his gun, the bullets in the cylinder, and swung his head around to squint at Bryce. “Besides, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Right.” Bryce’s lip curled in a fake smile. “Comforting.”

“Don’t even think of telling me you’re having second thoughts.” When Bryce just looked at him, Casey very carefully lifted his boot onto the table, stuffed a blade along his calf inside of it, and stood to slowly round on Bryce. “You told me you wanted to be useful.”

“But I have to go with them or ... someone? That’s the only option, I suppose?”

Casey had made it clear to him. The risk, the fact that they were pinning the first step on Bryce’s measly shoulders. Well, maybe he needed more motivation.

Casually, Casey took out his pocket Derringer, checked the sight by lining it up with Bryce’s head, and tested the give of the trigger guard. It was just a check, but he couldn’t help enjoying the fact Bryce backed up a step. “You sure you don’t need to start all over again with the instructions?” Casey asked.

“You’re missing the point, John.” Bryce’s glare deepened. “I told you I’m willing to do whatever it takes for Chuck –”

“Yeah, I bet you are, Romeo.”

“- but I’m not certain you’ve thought this through all the way. Wait. Romeo? What did Chuck tell you?”

“Never the fuck mind what he told me.”

It took Bryce a moment to realize that hammer was fully cocked. He gaped and shoved his hands in his pleated trousers’ pockets. “You can’t blame me for being cautious. I have to wonder what elements you might’ve missed.”

Casey nodded and re-aimed the gun, lowering it to Bryce’s stomach. “You’re right. There is one pesky detail I might’ve missed in all the excitement yesterday and this morning.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Take off the pants.”

“My ... what did you just say?”

“You heard me. Off.” Casey raked his eyes over Bryce and pointed the gun at him a little more impatiently when he didn’t immediately begin moving. “No matter who Liam sends for me, they’ve probably heard enough to know I wouldn’t be caught dead in that get-up. Look like a damned jo-fired Yankee dandy.”

“Newsflash, Mr. Casey. Most people find nothing wrong with my appearance. In fact, it could be argued that they prefer a decent, upstanding member of society -”

“Decent. Christ.”

“- and I seem to remember you saying Liam would probably send a courier for you. A man who doesn’t know you,” Bryce insisted, not even flinching at the gun. “Someone in the dark who won’t be able to answer questions? Or be persuaded – and God knows how your type bastardizes that word – in order to give away answers. I think the word you used was a patsy?”

“Newsflash, Larkin. First I said, probably,” Casey repeated for the imbecile, and he used the barrel to gesture over Bryce’s highfalutin monkey clothes. “But either way, he’ll be clueless, not goddamn blind.”

“I think this is perfectly presentable,” Bryce argued, holding his hands out.

“Acceptable for a stroll with your great aunt to Sunday church, maybe,” Casey said, beginning to dig through his duffle. “Not for a man who has spent his career using a type of persuasion I’m about ready to show you. No matter how naive the courier is, he may know nice boys don’t get into this kind of trouble.” He paused to look Bryce over and snorted to himself. “And they sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing that.”

Shaking his head, Bryce backed away, this time Casey suspected from the very idea of a disguise. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Need to spell it out? Already ordered you to take off your pants.”

“But – but what if it isn’t a ‘clueless’ courier?”

“Then you lose your usefulness,” Casey explained coolly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Casey spun the gun by the trigger guard a few times, the pistol looping around and catching the light. “It means I’d be hoping for the courier if I were you.”

Bryce opened his mouth to retort. Trouble was, Casey had enough of his shit and he broke it off by taking a step forward, shamelessly using his height to intimidate the smaller man.

“Take these,” Casey said. To his credit, Bryce planted his feet and caught the pair of jeans and shirt Casey tossed at him. “Put ‘em on.”

“Yours?” Bryce asked as he held up the pants. “There’s no way these are going to fit me. How do you propose I even get into these?”

“I could fold you in half and stuff you inside them like a Christmas turkey if you like.” Casey went back to loading his secondary guns, letting him think about it.

“Wait a minute. Blue jeans? I’ve never worn anything like this. They’re for factory workers and -”

“- people who are tired of hearing your shit,” Casey filled in for him, sliding a couple cartridges in his old Smith and Wesson. “You about done bitching?”

As Bryce glowered, Casey lowered his gun and gave him the warning stare. The little stand-off lasted about ten seconds before Bryce heaved a lofty, put-upon sigh. “I guess I’ll need my belt.” He turned his back to Casey and began to strip his fancy duds off. “Wow. And this will need to be tucked in. Hey, what’s this? A vest? Suede. Huh. Soft.”

“Is every sentence out of your mouth going to be a comment about my clothes?”

“Cut me some slack. It just feels a bit weird, all right?” Standing in his skivvies, Bryce hastily buttoned up Casey’s oversized shirt. When he finished up with the jeans, he wheeled around to face Casey and flapped his arms out to the side. “Considering you pounded every other detail into our heads, you could’ve warned me about having to dress up like a giant -”

“Careful how you finish that, boy,” Casey growled without looking over as he shouldered his leather gun bag.

“Well.” Bryce’s gaze connected with the gun bag. He cleared his throat and slipped the belt through the loops. “I was going to say killer outlaw. Are you going to argue with that?”

“I prefer entrepreneur.”

“You’ve got to be kidding -”

Casey leveled the S&W at his chest. “Got a problem?”

“Okay, Mr. Entrepreneur,” Bryce corrected. “Sheesh. Did Chuck believe that?”

“None of your damn business. And while you’re at it, mind getting your ass moving? Think the courier’s going to wait for you to slick back your hair?”

“I’m going, okay?” Pulling the suede vest on, Bryce slowly turned to face the washstand and checked himself out in the mirror. “Interesting ....”

“What’s interesting,” Casey rumbled without moving his lips, positive he didn’t want to know.

“I’m just asking myself something.” Bryce swiveled side to side and surveyed his reflection with pursed lips. “What does Chuck see in you? No offense, John, but how did he fall for someone like you?”

Casey held his gaze for a beat, then two. “No offense, Bryce, but I’ve been asking myself how he fell for such a pompous asshat since the moment I dangled you out my window.”

Bryce countered with the stink-eye. “It was a serious question.”

Maintaining his cool proved easier than Casey expected. Of all times, a memory of his lover flitted at the edges of mind. Naked, long body sprawled half under the covers, the curve of a buttock visible under folds of covers, one leg stretched over Casey’s thighs. His cheeks damp with perspiration, those beautiful eyes watching his face ....

Why had he fallen for him? What did he see beyond the steely exterior?

Hell, Casey had asked himself that same damn question more times than he cared to count.

Maybe because Chuck saw the good in a person under the layers of past poisons. Maybe because the kid himself had seen enough misery of his own in his young years, and had a lifetime of walking in those shoes. Knew to look past the isolation and ache when he found it in another man.

The last day in hell would happen before he’d say any of that to Bryce.

Casey took a deep breath and tossed him an empty duffle he had bought at the mercantile, keeping his face utterly blank. “Maybe because he found someone who could give him a proper banging into next week,” he muttered, “and still be there in the morning.”

“You went the vulgar route rather than answer. What a surprise.”

Casey resisted the urge to ruin his own suede vest with Bryce’s blood, only because he needed the dipstick alive a little longer. “Put your clothes in there and button it up. And I do mean your cake eater. Think you can handle that, or did I offend you?”

“I still don’t know why I’m doing this.” Bryce shook his head, but he stuffed his clothes inside the duffle anyway and handed it over when Casey put his palm out.

“And I don’t need you clogging your pea-sized brain with details that you don’t need to know.” Casey set the bag on his bed and jerked his head towards the window. “Tell me if you see the man in the black duster still standing on the west end of the porch.”

“Really? Black Duster. Why didn’t you say something?” Bryce crossed over to the window, lifting the edge of the curtain to peer out at the busy street. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Look again.” It was almost disappointing that Bryce obeyed, saving Casey the trouble of steering his ass over there. The excuse worked, since there truly was one secret Bryce did not need to know. As soon as the other man approached the window, Casey reached under the bed and fetched the Cipher. Glancing over, he stuffed it in his own bag and buttoned up the pack before Bryce dropped the curtain.

“There’s no one like that on the porch.”

“Or you just missed him,” Casey said. “Take your bag – don’t touch the other one.”

“Are you sure you’re not just -”

A short knock on the door stopped him. Both men looked over, Casey instinctively going for his gun. “Stay,” he mouthed to Bryce, motioning with his hand not to move. When Bryce rolled his eyes and motioned okay, Casey sidled up to the door, leaned in, and squinted through the peephole. After a quick perusal of the man’s face, he swung around to look at Bryce. He was nose to nose with the shorter man so suddenly that Casey had to blink. Apparently the idiot couldn’t follow simple instructions, since he was now peering over his shoulder.

“I’m rapidly changing my mind about this whole role you might have in Chuck’s rescue,” Casey admitted in a low hiss. “Thought I told you to stay.”

“I wanted to see him,” Bryce whispered. “Who is it?”

Casey looked Bryce up and down and made a point of fingering the grip of his Colt 45 stuffed in his belt. “Darn.”

“So you know who it is?”

“No, numb-nuts.” Casey’s smirk spread. “I only meant it looks like you’re still useful.”

Bryce started to say something and ended up glaring when he caught on. “Gee, thanks,” he muttered.

“Delivery for John Casey.” The voice on the other side of the door was unfamiliar, as expected.

Casey looked at the clock on the dresser. Punctual. Liam’s game was starting right on time.

Bryce plowed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “What was your Plan B if he did recognize you?” he whispered.

“Why do you care?” Casey, taking Bryce by the arm, positioned him in front of the door. “You’d be dead, wouldn’t you?”

Bryce yanked his arm free. “What?”

“Just shut up and be thankful.”

“Delivery? What did he mean by that?”

Casey rolled his eyes and gave him a little push. “He’s trying to get you to open the door, genius. My advice from here on out? Don’t screw up.”

“Wow. What would I do without your words of wisdom? Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Casey cocked his head, obviously pretending to think about it. “Try not to be a little dick head or they’ll never believe it’s me.”

“So I should be a giant asshole instead?”

Casey grunted, yet refrained from kicking his ass. He vowed to do it later, but right now, he needed that ass front and center. “Go,” he mouthed. “Remember. You’re going to be followed. You won’t see them, but they’ll be there. Making sure I’m alone.”

“Yeah? Great, since I’m the one that will be alone. And not that you care, but I’m feeling more and more hung out to dry. How do I know he won’t just kill me?

Casey lifted a shoulder at such an infinitesimal detail. “He won’t – you’re the only one who can lead him to me – on my terms.”

“How will I know where to take him?”

“Listen, moron, we covered this,” Casey said, heat traveling up his face. If this was foot dragging, the larger man was about to show him where he would get dragged to. “Get back to Booth’s corners. The red house, the cornfields – where the doctor showed you.” God, should he have trusted this idiot? “After that, there will be signals. Just follow them.”

“What if Morgan and Devon don’t do their job?”

“That’s the last of your worries.” Casey inclined his head, flashed his teeth. “Out of the three dimwits in my posse, the doctor’s not a fuck up.”

“John Casey?” the voice called again. “Are you in there?”

A frown settled on Bryce’s brow. “You’re implying something –”

“No, I pretty much came out and said it,” Casey pointed out and gave him an elbow to the back. The man knocked again. Swearing under his breath, Casey flattened himself against the wall and pulled out his gun. “Open the door,” he mouthed.

“Why can’t I know where you’re going to be waiting?” Bryce shot back.

“Because, imbecile, he’d beat it out of you. Now go.”

“That gives me a lot of hope,” Bryce said. “You know, something else just occurred to me.”

“Uh-huh. Now open the damn door.”

“Wait. If this guy is Liam’s patsy, then does this mean ...?” Bryce peered over at him before his eyes sharpened with a conclusion. “Am I your patsy?”

Casey smirked and merely twisted the doorknob, giving it a little pull. As he did, Bryce caught it, and, by force or by accident, swung the door wide. “Um, may I help you?” he heard Bryce say with a smile on his voice.

Behind the door, Casey had to pinch the bridge of his nose. “May I ... Jesus,” he offered to himself. “Fuck me running ....” Now, that had to be the first time John Casey had ever uttered those words to a stranger. Or anyone else.

While he stood off to the side, Casey watched Bryce’s face for any clues he was going to piss himself. None so far, but it was still early. And maybe Bryce could do worse in his job of imitation, but Casey just wasn’t sure how.

“John Casey?” the man asked. “Follow me.”

-x-

“If you get him killed, Bryce,” Casey murmured to himself, frowning down at the satchel before throwing it over his shoulder, “I’ll skin you alive. And then I’ll use you for target practice.”

Bryce had done it, though. He left without too much squawking.

Casey turned around to the mirror and caught his reflection. Why was he still thinking about that night now? Couldn’t help it, he supposed.

The truth was brutal, but there was no hiding from it. He was the one who had let the right moment slip through his fingers, never said what needed to be said. Damn, so close, too. It was right on his tongue, struggling to get out, the night Chuck was snatched. As he closed the gap to taste Chuck’s lips, the kid’s fingers dug in at his waist – and Casey was finally going to tell him. Every detail told him it was time. Meeting Chuck’s dark eyes, sunlight and the cicada’s song waning, the kid holding on as if nothing could make him let go this time. And they kissed, like the past had never happened.

Then he was gone. No one else to blame.

“I made a mistake,” Casey heard his voice continue on softly. Alone in the hotel room, there was no else to hear him. “We’re bringing you back, kid.”

Casey slid his hand into his jean’s pocket. The crumpled paper was there. Ten minutes ago, too, but the routine of preparation pulled him from those deeply entrenched thoughts. He had to get himself to stop. Stop letting his mind trip over images, stop the tightening of the iron band around his chest that he swore was digging in like wire. Those thoughts brought nothing but hurt and ache.

“A helluva lot of good this is doing,” Casey mumbled, shaking his head. “Thinking about what’s happening to Chuck instead of doing something about it.” He glanced at the clock again and cleared his mind, hardening and sharpening his focus on the here and now. Time to move.

As he picked up the duffle off the bed, there was another knock at the door. Casey held very still and listened. The courier and Bryce left an hour ago. There was no reason, above board, at least, that someone else would be paying him a visit.

Casey was getting familiar with this routine, he decided, slipping his Colt out of the holster. And fucking sick of it. Quietly sauntering over to the door, he bent his head and peeked through the hole. “Son of a ....”

He barely remembered giving his body an order to move. Before he could think, Casey pulled the door open. Judging by the amount of sweat and dirt streaked on his visitor’s cheeks, it was hotter than Hades in the train car and worse out on the street.

“Merde. Do you have a clue what I’ve been through?” the visitor bit out.

“I think I can guess.” Casey belatedly remembered to back out of the way, knowing the new arrival would barge over him otherwise. Dipping his chin, he took a moment to survey his guest, and despite everything, all the shit that had been stirred up, a small smile quirked one corner of his lip. “About damn time you got here. Too busy to read the newspapers?”

-x-

“I’m uncomfortable with the plan,” Morgan said. When the doctor took his eyes off the road ahead, he saw Morgan had twisted around on the buggy’s seat to look over at him. He was fidgeting with his hands, giving Devon a sneaking suspicion the little man never held still. “What if he sees us?”

“He won’t,” Devon said for the fifth time. “You heard the man. Casey said we should keep close while we’re in town. All the other wagons, horses, carriages ... he’ll never see us.”

The doctor was careful to keep any trace of discomposure out of his voice. It was a job they had to do. How could it be that dangerous? Look around. It was a perfect late afternoon ... for a fake medical visit. No reason to be anxious.

Yet seemed to be the operative word Casey had left off.

“Is that thirty yards? That looks like less than thirty yards to me,” Morgan was saying. “Well, okay, I don’t have a way to measure it precisely, but it feels like less than thirty yards.”

“Step up, girl,” Devon said, ignoring him by urging the horse onward. Had they only been following them for half an hour? It felt like forever. Nerves, he guessed. Shaking it off, Devon kept them moving at a trot that seemed to allow Bryce and the other man to stay in view without being noticeable. He hoped, anyway. Two wagons, loaded with cotton and bundled tobacco leaves, separated them. The cloud of dust kicked up by the horses and creaky wheels helped create a cover, and even though Devon was new to this spy game, he felt that was a good thing. “Past the Slater Mill .... Humph.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Shh.” Any other time, Devon would enjoy the late afternoon sunlight, turning the autumn hills deep gold and rust. Today it only made him squint into the distance. “They’re heading straight out of town. To the west.”

“Well, that’s odd, don’t you think?” Morgan wrinkled his nose and shifted around with antsy-ness, almost standing up in the moving carriage. “I don’t see anything in that direction. Where do you think they’re headed, man?”

“If you fall out, I’m not stopping.”

“Oh, sorry,” Morgan said, a bit sheepish as he settled into his seat again. “Just a little excited, you know? This is my first stake-out.”

“If you land on your head, bro, it might be your last.”

“Luckily a doctor is close by, huh?”

Devon slanted his head to stare at him.

“Oh-kay, then.” Morgan rubbed the back of his head and nodded. “So do you think the bad guy will guess we’re just two good-looking guys out for an afternoon ride? I mean, look at us. This level of hotness ... out on the road ....”

“Um, hey, anyway, do you have the supplies?”

“Where’s the trust?” Morgan patted the canvas bag on his lap. “So you told Casey you’re familiar with the area. You grew up here?”

“That’s right.”

“C’mon, then, man. You must have some idea where that guy is taking Bryce.”

“I wish I did.” Annoyed by the badgering, Devon shook his head and gave a flick of the reins. He had to wonder why he was stuck with the little guy, while Bryce’s role so far had a bit of the cool badass aura to it. Of course, it was also more dangerous by a factor of ten, and Casey seemed to prefer to put Bryce’s life on the line rather than Devon’s or even the irritating man next to him.

Maybe his instincts were right. It had to have something to do with a bit of rivalry for Chuck’s attention. From what Devon could tell – and it was purely an accident when he caught a glimpse of a pretty heavy make-out session the other evening– the kid had definitely made up his mind. Seems Chuck’s workshop had never seen that type of action until John Casey crossed through the doorway.

“Oh, hey, new wagon incoming,” Morgan said, managing not to point. “Do you think they might have something to do with this?”

“Hate to break it to you, bro. Mr. Jenkin’s feed wagon.”

Morgan leaned back, looking depressed. “What can I say? They all look alike.”

“Carteret County is pretty quiet, I guess,” Devon explained, nodding his head towards a brick two story building that came up ahead. “There are a few fisheries when we get to the edge of town ... but after that, nothing but fields and woods. Just a lot of farmland.”

“That’s it?”

“Afraid so.” Devon gave the street a cursory look. Remembering Casey’s warning, he shifted his eyes on Bryce’s back. “A few of the older plantations are still run by the families that settled here. Belfont, Rose Hill. At least the ones that weren’t destroyed or damaged during the ... War of Northern Aggression.”

“War of ... oh.” Morgan half turned, swallowed a chuckle, and finally just cleared his throat. “Hey, sorry about all of that, man. If it’s any consolation, being from one of the Union territories, we just tried to stay out of that whole brouhaha. Know what I mean?”

“Brouhaha?” Up ahead was a bend in the road, but Devon couldn’t help but shoot a disapproving look at his spy-partner. “Never heard the aggression boiled down so ... flippantly.”

“Oh, um, hey – I also heard Blackbeard roamed these parts. You know, the pirate? What if ... Casey’s boss is holed up in ye old ‘yo ho ho’ hiding spot? Where would that be, anyway?”

Devon reminded himself to pin his eyes on the distant horses. The man leading Bryce had slowed down. “Most folks around here think it’s just a tale. Buried gold, Spanish coins. Come on. It’s something to chase ... maybe think about, but face it, man. You’ll never find it.”

“But he was here, right?”

“Sure. That part’s true.” Another fork was ahead. Unless Bryce and his traveling companion were headed to the middle of nowhere, they would have to go right at the bend, Devon thought. “Old Blackbeard sailed along the Outer Banks. Holed up in some of the inlets from time to time.” Devon drew back on the reins and clicked his tongue. “Slow, girl.”

The other horses were about fifty yards away, where the hard-packed dirt roads out of town split into three directions. Less traveled, Devon knew first hand, and each road gradually grew into a grassy, two track path. To the north and south, they’d come to the tobacco and soybean farms, and to the west the terrain became hillier and thicker with bluff oaks and willows, spreading out their branches in a canopy over the road. A decent place to try and hide -

“Now what?” Morgan scooted forward in the seat and lowered the brim of his hat. Devon guessed it was an attempt to disguise himself. Maybe the little guy forgot he was supposed to be the doctor’s new assistant and not ... just strange.

“To the north, no matter what,” Devon told him.

“Well, it seems cowardly not to follow.”

“Just as Casey told us, remember?” Devon nodded at the farm wagons between his own buggy and Bryce. One of the wagons up ahead, a blue, heavy sided load-box with bright red wheels bumping along in the dirt, was tall enough to make the perfect shield. “We split up here. Bryce knows to lead them back to the crossroads. Our job is to create his path and ... make sure he’s not followed.” He darted his eyes down at the little guy next to him. Luckily, one of them had been paying attention during Casey’s speech slash instructions. And man, could John be scary when doling them out.

“Will anyone stop us along the way? You know, ask where we’re going?”

“Hey, you’re not worried about that, are you? I’m a doctor. See these roads up ahead? Let me remind you, bro, I make these rounds several times a week, at least. If anyone wonders why we’re headed this way, I’m simply calling on Mrs. Fletcher.”

“Because?” Morgan waved a hand between them, waiting ... for something.

“Still don’t get what you’re asking, bro.”

“Don’t you think we should have our stories straight?”

Devon blinked. “Stories?”

“Well, I am your assistant, aren’t I?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Okay, then,” Morgan said. “What if he or she asks about Mrs. Fletcher?”

He should be watching the road. The split was only about twenty yards in the distance. But Devon couldn’t help it. He had to turn to him with a blank look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a confusing little man.”

“Oh, boy, I see what’s happening here,” Morgan said, scratching the back of his head before rolling his eyes heavenward. “You haven’t thought this through, have you? Okay, I’ve got it. The Black Plague. Right? Who would want to follow us there, man?”

“Dude, no one’s going to follow us.” Devon turned back to the road. “Casey said we split up from them here.”

“Sure,” Morgan said. “Split up. Good. Soooo ... I’m your assistant. We’re on our rounds ... and we happen to be going ..?”

Devon glanced up one of the forks ahead. “Like I said. North.” His pulse rate had escalated considerably now that they were going to move on to the part of the plan he knew was riskier. “They’re on the move. Headed to the left again. See for yourself.”

Bryce and the man leading him broke into a trot, up a rolling slope that would take them along Crabtree Creek and finally to the edge of the Croatan Forest. Why in the world didn’t Casey want them to be followed? Crazy, Devon thought, but it didn’t matter. It was too late for second guesses now.

“Okay, so we just let them go?” Morgan asked.

“That’s right.” Devon watched Bryce shift around in the saddle. It looked like Chuck’s old chum was saying something to the strange man, but the words were caught up in the wind.

“I hate to be the one to bring this up, man, but what if we can’t trust Bryce? Maybe this whole thing isn’t a good idea.”

Devon resisted the impulse to agree with him. “You heard the big guy ... and frankly he doesn’t seem like the type who likes to be crossed.”

“You noticed that too, huh? I wonder how Chuck deals with that ....”

“Anyway,” Devon cut in, quickly changing the subject. “We don’t follow them - under any circumstances. Casey wants us to backtrack up the road. Leave the signal for Bryce, just like he said.”

“Do you think Bryce will see it? And what if he doesn’t take this Liam fellow back to Casey?”

“He will,” Devon said. God, he hoped so. He wasn’t certain what a man like John Casey would do if Bryce decided to improvise. Simply put, something told him the bear of a man could be both systematic and sadistic when it came to the matter of Chuck Bartowski.

“It doesn’t seem right for Casey to meet him there alone. Hey, isn’t it a bit cowardly of us? Well, until you get to the part where ....” Morgan trailed off, filling in by making a shooting motion with his thumb and forefinger.

“John wants to deal with him. On his own. Neutral site, he called it. It’s too dangerous for two guys like us, remember?”

“Where’s the Latham slave shanty, anyway?”

Devon blew out an exasperated breath and motioned to the right. The fork to the north was dead ahead. “Three miles in this direction.”

“All that way, huh?”

“Yes, that’s right. Walk, girl.” Devon snapped the reins before the little guy could ask again. The carriage jolted, and he glanced down to see Morgan steady the bag on his lap. “We need to keep out of sight. How else is Casey going to be protected if Liam has sent his skunks to waylay the big guy? Did you get that part?”

“Isn’t that a given? I mean, can’t we assume that Casey’s boss is a not-so-nice guy?” Struck by that thought, Morgan swiveled around in the seat to watch the stranger’s back. “And Casey might be keeping his mouth shut, but what do you think his old boss is doing to Chuck?”

“Morgan, thinking about my bro in that way is that last thing I want to do right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said, genuinely apologetic. “But do you think Casey gave us this job just to get us out of the way for now?”

Devon could appreciate the skepticism, even though it did nothing to ease the knots in his muscles. “You do remember ... what happens after that,” he said, lowering his voice. “If men follow Bryce and Liam back to the Latham shanty ....”

Morgan audibly swallowed. “Have you ever shot a man before? You know, with a gun?”

“As opposed to what?”

“A slingshot?”

One of Devon’s eyebrows rose. “Dude, you make me nervous.” He angled around to follow Morgan’s line of sight, watching as Bryce and the strange companion disappeared over the crest of a hill. “They’re gone. Let’s go.”

“You didn’t answer,” Morgan prompted.

Devon avoided his eyes by shifting his attention forward and flicked the reins. “I took the Hippocratic Oath. I’m not supposed to hurt a man, okay?”

“What are you going to do, then? Have you thought about that?”

The answer to that particular question was squeezing his stomach to pulp. Honestly, he had no idea. “Listen. Here’s a thought: how do you feel about being the doctor’s mute assistant, bro?”

-x-

“Still don’t know how to properly greet a girl, I see.” She was smiling a little as she said it.

“How’d you know where to find me? And what took you so damn long, woman?”

The brunette with the almond-shaped eyes tipped her head up at him and shrugged. “You forget John, I run a thriving business. Sometimes I don’t get to the papers. The headline caught my eye, thinking about your kid, but when Luciana opened it up the next morning, well, she spilled an entire coffee down her dress, so I figured it had to be about your lost boy ....”

“Don’t call him that.” Casey needed to break eye contact. He had no idea how to tell her how close to home her jest hit.

“Come here.” Grabbing him by the sleeve, she pulled him against her body. “Can’t tell you how happy I am. Relieved ... that goes for both of us.” Seeing no choice, he uneasily returned the hug. One – or both – of them was trembling, and it rocked through him that he would have to tell her the search wasn’t over.

In a way, it was just beginning.

“Where is he, anyway?” After an awkward pause, Sabine pulled back to get a really good look at him, her face all set to bloom into a grin. “Not hiding, I hope.”

“Sabine -”

“Johnnie, is this a bad time?” Her eyes shifted past him to the bed. “Huh. I expected you to have that kid of yours in the sack.”

“It’s not -”

“Just make sure you let him up for air sometimes, okay. That boy’s skinnier than a fence post. I can come back later ... and you’re not smiling, Johnnie.” Wouldn’t be the first time she could sense trouble on his face when no one else could. One thing he alternatively loved and hated about her. “What’s wrong? John, talk to me. Where is he?”

Well, he had telegraphed his thoughts, and her arms fell. Casey distanced himself from the woman and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He’s not here,” he had to tell her.

“Not ..?”

Casey felt a stab of guilt on a dozen levels – Chuck, his own failure to gauge the depth his boss could sink to. Simmering under that was the fact Sabine had spent two days on a train to hear him have to say he lost him again. He covered his remorse by staring over at the window. “It’s a long story.”

Sabine slowly walked around the room. Her full attention stopped again at the four-post bed. Obviously not slept in. (And why the fuck did everyone look there first?) When she pivoted around to him, she searched his face before clutching her fingers into his arms. “Where. Is. He?”

Casey shook his head. With any luck, his expression didn’t tell her how gutted he felt. “Liam,” was all he had to say.

-x-

Casey was thankful for one thing. Sabine didn’t cry this time. Hell, the last time, back in St. Louis was bad enough. Damn the tears. Sniffling womenfolk leaving voluminous amounts of snot and waterworks against his coat, bemoaning something they couldn’t change. Christ, it still bothered him that it was the one time he saw Sabine cry.

He remembered thinking how tears brought out the color of someone’s eyes. Something about being able to see deeper right then.

That time, it was no one’s fault.

Sabine pressed her hand to her stomach and walked over to the window. “Something tells me I won’t be sending that telegram to Luciana just yet.”

“It will happen,” Casey told her. “We’ll get him back.” To get off the topic, he asked, “How did you find me?”

Sabine let out a disbelieving snort. “You may not realize this, Johnnie, but when a man like you blows into a small town like this, some people may just stand up and take notice.”

Only once in a while, Casey did wish he was shorter and less conspicuous. Of course, he got over that quickly when he saw the need to break someone’s face.

The woman continued to stare outside for a minute while her mind worked to process the events that had unfolded over the past two days. “You trust this Bryce person?” She did an about-face and folded her arms over a simple brown traveling dress. “You didn’t have much to say about how he came into the picture. Only that he knows the kid?”

Always perceptive. That hadn’t changed. It was no oversight that Casey had glossed over the details of Chuck and Bryce’s previous ... relationship or friendship or whatever the hell it was. One, the kid had been through enough humiliation without anyone else, even a sympathetic person, knowing something he held so deeply private. For two, it pissed him off to no end, and now was not the time.

“If Liam kills the punk,” Casey replied stiffly, “well, let’s just say he’s ... expendable.”

“Cold. Even for you, Johnnie.” Appraising him carefully, Sabine finally sighed away her misgivings and took a drink from the canteen he had laid on the dresser. After taking a long swig, she went on, “Though you always have your reasons ....”

“He admitted trying to strike a deal with the kid’s father.” Casey frowned, just a quick sure fire flash, before he schooled his features for Sabine’s benefit. “Something about a finder’s fee. Five thousand dollars to arrange for the happy reunion.” Sarcasm oozed by the time he got that out. “Figured if there was anyone who should stand in for the meeting with Liam, it should be him.”

“He tried to do that – to your Chuck? And you didn’t shoot him on the spot?”

“Oh, trust me.” Casey grunted. Checking another spare knife hidden in his belt, he then slung the satchel over his shoulder. “I want nothing more than to plug that little bastard. Due time.”

“Oh?” Sabine’s brow lifted when Casey left it at that. “There’s more to this story than just selling out a friend.”

“Yep.” Casey slipped a standby Smith and Wesson under his shirt in back. “Ready?”

“I can take a hint, John,” Sabine said, still eyeing him, “but tell me this. If you want him dead so badly, why didn’t you just do it?”

“Now who’s being cold, woman?”

“I’ve just never witnessed that much restraint from you.”

Casey growled and pushed his hat on his head. “The other two aren’t like this Bryce. Think they’re genuine, at least.” Turning his back away from her inquisitive eyes, he added in a low mutter, “The kid’s ... gonna need those kinds of friends around when all of this is said and done.”

“So the other two – this doctor and - what did you say the short one is called?”

“Bearded troll.”

“Strange.”

“Wait until you meet him.”

“Something to look forward to.” Sabine moved to stand in front of him, reached up and traced his cheek with her fingertips. Composed, maybe controlling her anger and fear for his sake, she took her wide-brimmed hat, one that typically a man would wear, and followed his lead by slipping it on her head. “I assume they have a ... somewhat safer role in all of this?”

“For now.” No plan was fool-proof, and God knew he had been forced to pull in the services of a bona fide moron to test the theory. “Safe if the greenhorns don’t get caught. Or refuse to do what they need to.”

“I never could get you to talk enough to make sense,” Sabine said. She had pulled an ivory-handled Derringer out of the many folds of her skirt, a front pocket hidden there, and was in the midst of checking the chamber. “I thought you just said you’re keeping them at arm’s length.”

“Almost.”

“Almost?” Sabine straightened, and then the words sunk in. “I hate to ... remind you, but having one person who can’t defend himself stuck in Liam’s ... care is bad enough - well, don’t look at me that way. Face it, I have met the kid. Sweet, charming, not a killer. So how do you plan on keeping the others safe?”

Casey rested his hand on his holster. “That’s where I might need your help. Though I have to admit, Sabine, part of me isn’t comfortable putting a ... female in danger ....”

He expected her to be angry. Predictably, the woman didn’t disappoint. There would be no stopping the quiet fury, so Casey didn’t even try to smooth it over.

“You left off the word ‘helpless’ or ‘delicate’, did you?” Her eyes rose, narrowed as she prowled closer. Casey had to admire her spunk. Even it if was directed at him. “Stop being an asshole,” she bit out. “What do you need me to do?”

How he could throw his most trusted friend in this mess, he would never understand. Judging that she wouldn’t give him a choice, Casey propped his hip on the dresser and folded his arms over his chest. Stop being a dumbass is right. You need her. “Bryce will bring Liam to me – but we need to make sure he’s alone. No goddamn surprises. And maybe you remember, but an ambush is more his style.”

“So?”

“If Bryce and Liam are followed, the other two need to shoot them.” Casey pressed his lips together briefly and shook his head. “I don’t think they can do it.”

Sabine straightened. He had to wonder how a woman with a rifle on her back had not caused a scene in the lobby of the Beaulieu Grande. Then again, maybe she did, and a stirred up audience of tea-sipping society dames would be watching them leave. They’d certainly be piqued by two armed-to-the-teeth strangers heading out on their horses.

Casey squinted at her. Maybe they should exit through the back kitchen.

“Where are they?” she asked.

He fell silent for a moment, his hand touching the satchel. “I’ll tell you where to find those two. But I’m not letting you go in with just that damn rifle of yours.” He opened the pack, flipped past the clothes and around the Cipher. “If Liam did bring company, you’re gonna need more guns.”

“Then hand them over,” Sabine ordered. She snapped her fingers when he didn’t move fast enough. “Maintenant.”

Casey entertained a brief vision of telling her he was still in charge - and then saw the brief flash of dark shadows in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled.

When she tucked away the gun, he had to look down at her hand and wonder how it happened. Today. Now. It had taken some finagling by the hand of Fate, but the cast was, it seemed, all here.

Except one. His city boy. Intelligent, tougher than any of them put together, gentleness that was all his.

And if Casey lost his soul, didn’t get his shy heart back to him, everything and everyone being here ... it wouldn’t mean much after that.

x-End Chapter Eight Where the Road Ends-x-


	9. Chapter Nine

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Nine

-x-

“That dang horse of yours go any faster?” the stranger leading him asked. “Got a ways to go, and we’re purt near running out of daylight.”

“Pardon me for not wanting to go galloping into a potentially dangerous situation,” Bryce retorted.

The man leaned over his horse to spit out a wad of tobacco. “Get a move on.”

“Where did you say we were going again?”

“Stupid-ass city slicker. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The man, wearing dingy jeans and a red plaid shirt, fell silent after that, figuring Bryce would follow if he knew what was best for him.

Thanks a lot, John Casey. Bryce grimaced at the man’s back and swatted at the flies buzzing around his head. He added pesky insects to the long list of miseries he hated about the South. It was a warm day for October, and nothing like the autumn days back at Harvard. There, autumn brought mellow warmth, maple trees along the walking paths on campus burning like a row of red torches. Students lying in the grass under the leafy branches, books spread out around them. Drugged by the heat of the last warm days of the year and the tranquility of their surroundings ....

Bryce couldn’t help letting his mind wander. He had just described the afternoon he met Chuck.

***

First impression: coltish, book-smart, nice smile. Later, he could modify that assessment: incredibly smart, a blazing grin, cooperative and easy-going if you knew what button to push.

And Bryce knew how to push. Sure, he had taken up with men before, but he’d never tried out a shy, gawky city boy like this one. At the time he wondered if the attraction was because of Chuck’s underlying innocence, his gentle nature, or something else Bryce didn’t want to face was lacking in himself.

Nah, it couldn’t have been that last one.

Anyway, there was no denying Chuck’s intelligence, but who saw that naiveté coming? His new friend had it in spades. How else could Chuck have let himself be led so blindly? Bryce still didn’t know why he let it happen. Allowing – okay, maybe persuading - Chuck to fall in love with him.

Face it. That whole chaste seduction thing had almost been too easy.

The instant he realized that Chuck liked men in a way that wasn’t quite conventional, Bryce took about three seconds to conclude he could use that to his benefit in some way. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with a little gentle flirting – a touch on his hand to get the kid’s attention, or leaning in close over a book - if he could get a little free tutoring in the hellacious mathematical studies required to graduate. Smart, remember?

Bryce had a fleeting worry that night, after the graduation ceremony, when he made his decision to give Chuck what he wanted. Would it somehow make things awkward? But the next day, Bryce would catch a train to Atlanta, Chuck would return home, and their worlds could go on to be normal.

Celebrating was expected, getting soaked was part of it. Easy enough to get him alone that night, too. When he sat down next to Chuck, the nearly empty bottle between their legs, the dew on the grassy bank cool against their clothing, Bryce looked over and placed a hand on Chuck’s knee. Eyes, man, they were beautiful eyes, the color of deep ale, watched him curiously.

Initially, the thought was to give Chuck a thrill.

“I want to show you something tonight,” Bryce had said. When Bryce’s hand captured the side of his head, fingers sliding through his thick dark curls, Chuck was startled at first. Bryce assured himself it wasn’t fear reflecting back at him. Okay, maybe his friend appeared quivery, but Bryce would bet his pretty little Francotte Pinfire revolver that his roommate was a virgin. So that had to be the reason. And in a way, the justification, wasn’t it?

In the end, getting Chuck on his back took a little more finesse than Bryce usually encountered. The booze helped. When he finally did coax his lips open, seducing the kid with an erotic play of his tongue, he was mystified that it was his own vitals that coiled. Getting Chuck drunk and naked was one thing, but the desire that had swelled up so hard and fast took his breath from him. How the hell did that happen?

Not that it mattered, because there were times a man had to stop asking and just take it. Capturing locks of hair and stroking, his body rubbing Chuck’s in a slow rhythm, his urgent need began to grind against him. These clothes had to go. Maybe inspiration would encourage his friend. Bryce put a little stretch along the entire length of Chuck’s body, letting him feel he was rock hard and needing it.

“You want to, don’t you?” Bryce murmured, and then sealed his mouth with a kiss before Chuck could answer. He had caught a furtive glance of his roommate naked – accidents happen, all right? Even planned coincidences to satisfy a little curiosity - so Bryce already knew Chuck had a nice chest he should stop hiding under stiff cotton shirts.

“Off,” Bryce growled. “Now.” He slid the shirt from Chuck’s shoulders, rising a bit. Reaching forward, he caught the collar, damp with sweat from Chuck’s nape, and pulled it all the way free. With bare skin exposed, Bryce finally gave in to the urge to just touch him, caressing the swell of one smooth pec, running the back of his knuckles through the sprinkling of chest hair.

Like that, Chuck? Feeling adventurous, Bryce moved to his flat hard nipples, down to the dark hair that formed a silken line to his stomach, long cock. Why had he waited so damned long just to take it? Whether the kid knew it or not, Chuck’s body was beautiful, hard and warm, lean muscles rippling like the water at the bottom of the sloping bank beneath them.

After he had wrestled Chuck to the ground to tease him with the playful sandpaper stroke of his jaw against his neck, after his own climax, Bryce flopped over on his back and looked up at the sky. Now that was strange. Quiet. He turned his head to study his roommate. Though he was usually a babbler, Chuck was silent, his body stretched out on the ground, arm muscles taut.

“You okay, buddy?” Bryce lifted his head and caught sight of that hand again, lying on the grass, fingers clenching into the ground. What was that all about? Hey, he wanted it, didn’t he?

When Bryce leaned in to take another kiss, Chuck jerked his head back, regarding him with an odd expression.

That was when Chuck got up to find his clothes.

Later, it occurred to Bryce that Chuck never really ... asked.

Why not?

***

“Hey, John Casey. You hear anything I just said?”

Pushing away the thought of that night, and other unsettling ruminations it raised, Bryce snapped his head up and turned his gaze to the man riding in front of him. Whatever he had just missed, it was the first time either had spoken in an hour, ever since they had steered the horses off the grassy road, along another that seemed to be no more than an abandoned cow path.

“Why are we stopping?” Evidently, the jackass had halted them on a rise, a sloped expanse of field providing a panoramic glimpse of a forest backdrop. Bryce could see that the trail wound down the hill and led to an opening among the trees, covered in shadows under their canopy of leaves. “Don’t tell me we’re going there.”

“Yeah. That’s what the man said. This-a-way ... unless yer a scairty-cat. Afraid of the dark?”

Bryce sighed at the snickering man and gently kicked his horse’s side to get moving. “It’s what the dark hides that can be dangerous,” he said. Though he was loathe to admit it, Casey was right about one thing. The man with black curly hair, tighter than Chuck’s loose curls, seemed to know next to nothing except that he would earn twenty dollars by taking John Casey far out of town and delivering him without opening his mouth. “Are we meeting someone?”

“Do you see anyone around, dumb shit?” the man taunted, turning his horse around. “This way.”

“I see one dumb shit,” Bryce mumbled, but seeing there wasn’t much of a choice, he nudged his horse in the ribs to keep up. “I mean, come on. You can tell me now.”

His guide paid no heed to the question, taking them down the hill and through the tall grass of the field, heading for the opening between the trees.

“So, this was your plan, Casey?” Bryce said in a wry voice. He straightened in the saddle and threw an irritated look up ahead at the man’s back. Louder, he said, “At least you can tell me what I’m walking into.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, I suppose,” the man shot back over his shoulder.

“Can’t wait.” The awkward silence fell again, broken only by the clopping of horse hooves. Giving up, Bryce kept his eyes on the slanting trail, letting the breeze and the quiet of the place close in on his mind, fill the troubled spots for a while. Why did he agree to this? Maybe he had five thousand reasons, but was it worth it?

Bryce knew he needed to be watching everything, and when he turned to survey the field they were crossing to reach the woods, he swore he saw something white sheltered among the trees. The shadows made it difficult to discern. It was still a good ways off in the distance.

“What is this place?” Suspicion and wariness leaked from Bryce’s voice as he trotted up to ride alongside the other man. “Don’t you think you can tell me now, since we’re obviously headed over there?”

The black-haired man shifted his eyes from the trail to spare Bryce a glance. “Elmwood.”

“Elmwood. Good. Glad we had this talk.”

The man simply rolled his eyes and kept moving. Within a few minutes, they entered the shrouded forest, the branches only letting dappled light seep through. Off to the right, among twisted vines and bramble, was a weathered sign. The lettering was worn, the white paint mostly peeled away to the bare gray wood. Immediately, the air was cooler.

“Well, I have to give you credit, it does say Elmwood.” Bryce hid his amazement the man could even read and squinted ahead at a wide clearing. “A plantation?” It was at one time, he supposed, a grand estate. The gabled roof with a cupola was torn away at one end, just the joists holding it together like skeletal remains. A two-tiered porch ran the entire length of the front of the Greek Rival house, though a few squared columns stood crooked under years of neglect. “Does anyone live there?”

“Not since the War of Southern Independence,” the man grumbled. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk like a damn Yankee?”

Just in time, he reached into his bag of tricks for his Southern drawl. “A nasty habit I picked up when my father forced me up to school north of the Mason Dixon,” Bryce explained. “I live in Atlanta now.”

“Humph.” The man eyed him before urging his horse on.

“Okay, if no one lives here, why are we turning off this way?”

“Just ‘cause no one lives here doesn’t mean it’s empty.”

Even a hardened outlaw would be feeling those nerves jump in his belly, Bryce reckoned. Halfway up the long path to the front porch, he deliberately slowed the horse down to get a good look. Besides the abandoned sense about it, there didn’t seem to be anything odd or dangerous from the outside. Just creepy. “My, uh, boss is here?”

“I don’t know who the hell he is,” the man replied, “and I don’t care. The only thing I do know is that my pocket will be heavier when I’m leaving.” He brought his horse to a halt and turned in the saddle. “Get off. Follow me.”

Bryce scanned every inch of the plantation’s façade before climbing down. “No welcoming committee,” he tried to joke as he shuffled behind the man. “Where is –”

“Hands in the air, asshole.” The precise moment he heard the order, the black barrel of a rifle poked out from the corner of the doorway. It was followed by another random goon, squinting down the barrel of his own bolt action rifle. “Just keep walking in like that. Don’t even think of reachin’.”

“Easy, easy. No need for violence,” Bryce said, flashing a placating smile. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m unarmed, but you can see, I’m not holding anything, either.

“Shut up and walk.”

“You two are a regular party, you know that?” But with the gun leveled at his head and the escort coming up from behind him on the porch, Bryce figured he should do what the fine gentlemen ordered. He forced his brain to take in the details, trying to focus on something beyond the dilapidated front door or their boots creaking on the loose pine floorboards. As he crossed inside, his foot caught on a plank and he almost stumbled, earning him a look from the man with the rifle. “Sorry,” Bryce said, sarcasm dripping. “Maybe my boss should’ve chosen a place with better stability. Lighting, too, because I can’t – oh.”

He bumped straight into the man’s back when he drew to a stop.

“Who the fuck are you?” another man asked, his voice barely a growl emitting from the shadows.

Bryce spun to the right, staring past an opulent archway into a darkened parlor. “I’m, uh, who are you?”

A man the size of Casey leaned against a frame of a desk, eyes burning through the darkness. “Ah, hell, Johnnie,” he said in an unruffled monotone, shaking his head at Bryce. “Looks like you decided to play the hard way.”

Bryce swallowed at the revelation. There was only one person this could be. “You’re Liam, I presume. I’m, ah, here to relay a message to you.”

“I suppose I should be curious.” The man in in a dark brown cutaway jacket inspected the nails on his free hand – the one not holding a gun. He then reached around the desk and picked up a metal cigarette box, tapped it against his palm. “Why don’t you educate us?”

Bryce tucked his thumbs in his front pockets, trying to look half as badass as the person who owned the jeans. “I guess you could say there’s been a little change in your plans.”

For reasons Bryce could not begin to fathom, there were no sudden attacks and no gun blasts. Liam just stood there, his black eyes turning brittle while more sweat slid down Bryce’s back.

At once, Bryce was reminded of a hunting trip with his father when he was young. The dense forest, the craggy slope of a mountain, it was all sketchy in his mind. Only the brown bear that came upon them, its thick shaggy coat and gleaming eyes, jumped to the front of his mind.

Make no doubt about it. This giant of a man was as dangerous as that restless Grizzly bear.

“Wait a damn second,” another voice said.

Bryce felt a movement against his sleeve. He glanced over to see the clueless courier stabbing a finger at Liam.

“Before we go any further here, where’s my money?”

“Your money, you say?” Liam flicked a match out of the case and took his time lighting a cigarette. Watching the hired courier, he took a drag so deep that Bryce expected to see the paper burn to his fingers. “I suppose you think you’ve earned it.”

“Hell, yes. You said room 236. Bring him here. Tall and blue eyes.”

Liam gave Bryce a once-over. “You got it half right. And all wrong.” He returned his gaze to the courier, straightened, took another drag. “Maybe I’m feeling magnanimous today. You get half.” Reaching into his pocket, he dragged out a few coins and flipped them in the air towards the scowling man. “My advice? Take it before I begin to feel less so.”

The black-haired man fetched the coins, rolled them around in his hand, mulling over the proposition. In the end it, was Goon Two with the rifle who helped him decide when he pointed it squarely at the man’s chest. “I think you should leave now.”

The hired goon who had dragged Not Casey but Bryce to Elmwood was silent for a moment, his face flushing with anger. “Pretty boy Nancy son of a bitch anyway,” he spat out, realizing he was beat and could do nothing else. Well, except hock a loogie at Bryce’s feet, which he did as his final act of defiance before shuffling out the door.

“Hey, not my fault,” Bryce called after him, trying to diffuse the clash with a little humor.

No one else saw it that way. Once the man was gone, Bryce swung his head around – and felt cool gunmetal skid along his cheek. How Liam had pulled out a pistol and sidled up to him that quickly, he’d never know.

Bryce, raising his hands in the air again, twitched his mouth into a fake smile. “Ah, is it me, or did it just get really chilly in here?”

“Let’s talk about this change in plans you mentioned,” Liam said, pressing the muzzle awfully close to the fake smile. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bryce ... Bryce Larkin.”

“Well, Bryce Larkin, now you’re going to tell me what you know.”

Bryce tried to look past the barrel of the gun to the hardened face beyond it. “John Casey would like you to leave with me. Right now. Alone.”

“He’d like me to?”

“He actually said ordered,” Bryce admitted, glancing at one of the other gunmen, “but I guess I’m the mediator here.”

“As if I don’t have a choice? What else did my esteemed associate say?”

“The verbatim version, I suppose?”

“Yes, let’s go with that,” Liam said.

Half of Bryce’s face pulled into a smirk with bravery he didn’t quite feel. “If you think he’s going to walk into your lair by himself, you can go fuck yourself.” He then remembered a not-so-insignificant detail. “Oh. And Chuck. You have to bring him.”

Liam laughed and raised his gun to Bryce’s forehead. Even worse was that the goon with the rifle pointed at Bryce’s chest had tensed. The creepy-crawly sensation that he was close to pulling the trigger intensified. “Maybe you can just tell me where he is,” Liam offered.

Bryce felt his heart begin to hammer, rapid fire as a revolving cannon. Great. Would it had been so hard, Casey, to warn him that he might end up with a gun to the face? “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“You ... don’t know,” Liam repeated, arching a brow at him. “Tell me, Bryce, are you some kind of idiot?”

Bryce wasn’t sure what to make of the insult, but he had to bristle. “Unfortunately I missed out on the opportunity to attend one of the fine agricultural colleges here in the South. But there’s a place near Boston where I completed my degree Magna Cum Laude. Perhaps you’ve heard of Harvard University?”

“Correction, arrogant idiot,” Liam mumbled and merely pinched the bridge of his nose. After letting out a sigh, he gestured with his gun to the flunky closest to Bryce. “Search him.”

“Did I give you permission – ouch.” It was getting harder to ignore the jabs to the face. “Watch it, will you?”

“This is my permission.” Liam motioned again with the muzzle. “Do it.”

The search came up with the gun in his vest, of course, but when the man found a knife in his belt, it rankled a bit. Bryce was really hoping to hold onto that. “Do you think I’d try anything with two guns pointed at me,” he grit out between his teeth. “Come on, let’s be friends.”

“Okay, my new friend. Let me ask you again,” Liam said, shoving the gun against his chin, “where is John Casey.”

Bryce, with the sight of that gun looming so close, said the only thing he could. “I ... don’t know. It’s the truth.” Only the doctor knew, since he was well-acquainted with the area and had helped Casey secretly choose it. The only clue Bryce had was that there would be ‘signs’ and he, along with Liam, should follow them. Red against yellow, or ‘crimson against gold for the high fluting numb-nuts among us.’

What the hell did that even mean?

And now that he was really thinking about it – the gun shoved up his nose actually helped shine enlightenment on this question – why didn’t Casey choose Devon to be the one here, to deliver the message? To be the one with the gun to his head?!

“Should I shoot him?” the goon asked.

“Wait! That’s not part of the plan!” Bryce’s hands flew up higher in a peacekeeping gesture. “I’m supposed to take you there. That’s how this works.”

“Shut it, little asshole.” Liam stood there, contemplating, while he kindly let Bryce feel the cold metal on his skin. “Fucking Christ,” he finally said. It was at that point Bryce realized Casey’s boss might have mental problems. Especially since he let out a belly laugh right after his curse. “You goddamn cunt, John Casey.” Eyeing him, the larger man tucked the gun back into his waistband where it would be within easy reach, and shoved Bryce to the side. “Oh, you learn well, Johnnie.”

Now that he no longer had a gun in his face, Bryce inched backwards a step. “What?”

“Sent me a damn blind patsy right back, didn’t you?”

“Hang on.” Bryce cocked his head at the note of disdain. “What did you just say?”

“You, my idiot, are the patsy,” he said in a cool, level voice, taking another drag. One long exhale, and he snuffed out the cigarette, those black eyes roaming over him. “Either he doesn’t know you ... or he really hates you. I wonder which it is.”

Bryce backed up until he felt the other goon behind him. “That’s not true.” That utter bastard! Setting me up like this!

“The real question is ... are you useful.”

“I – how do you expect me to take you to him?” Bryce asked.

Liam smiled. “You have no idea where he is.”

“But there will be ... signs.”

“What kind of signs?”

Bryce frowned. “I don’t know.” It was mostly the truth, wasn’t it?”

“Of course you don’t. And this isn’t getting me anywhere, kid.” Liam settled back against the desk again, stretching his legs out and folding one arm over his barrel-like chest. “I can find the signs as well as you, I suppose. Don’t tell me. He had someone else – maybe another gun for hire – follow you here and leave a trail back to him?”

Bryce spotted one of the goons checking out the window. It was a bit of a stretch to call the doctor and Morgan ‘guns for hire’. Besides, as far as he knew, they cut off at a place called Booth’s corner. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he knows, you little idiot,” Liam began, and his voice dropped to something dark and deadly, “that if I thought you were lying, I would beat it out of you until there was nothing left of your body but bones. The floor you’re standing on would look like I had mopped it with your blood. That’s why.”

“I ... see.” Bryce choked on his own swallow and shuffled back a step “I’m not lying – I don’t know ....”

“He’s fucking with me,” Liam murmured, his fingers beginning to slide over the leather holster sticking out from under his jacket. “He wants to make certain I’m not followed. That I have no idea what pit of vipers I’m walking into. Most importantly, that I’m alone ... except of course, for his little trade-off.”

“What now, Mr. O’ Doherty?” the crony asked, gesturing at Bryce with the rifle.

Liam tapped out another cigarette from the case. “We’ll take our chances. Prepare the horses.” He shrugged and dismissed the entire distasteful situation with a light hand wave. “Oh, and kill the idiot.”

It took Bryce three heart-pounding seconds to realize who the idiot was in this equation. As the man lifted the rifle, his hands shot up, waving him off. “Whoa! Wait! You can’t do that!”

Liam, unfazed, pinched a match between his fingers and smiled. “Yeah? Why not?”

He shouldn’t answer. He shouldn’t say it.

It might be the only thing to keep him alive.

“I work for Mr. Adams.” The admission came from Bryce’s lips in a burst. “And I’m looking for his son.” Next to him, he heard the man with the rifle take a step closer. Sweat cascaded down Bryce’s back, trickling over his shoulder blades and ribcage. “It’s the real reason I’m here. I had no intention of taking Chuck back to him.”

Liam eyed him suspiciously, but he wasn’t reaching for his gun any longer. “So, you work for the man who refused to broker a deal with me,” he said after a harrowing pause, his eyes never leaving Bryce’s. For one blinding second, Bryce thought his world was going to end.

Until Liam said, “Look who just became useful.”

-x-

“I feel a little funny doing this.” Morgan flung a hand up, catching a branch, and went back to tying off the six-inch strip of bandana. “Do you think anyone’s watching us?”

“See anybody, bro?” Devon asked. He nodded over at the obviously empty road and tore off another strip of the cloth that Casey had stuffed in his doctor’s bag. “Here. You’re going to need replenishment when we get up to the turn ahead.”

“Are you sure this is what Casey wanted us to do?”

Devon had to tilt his head upward to meet the questioning eyes of the shorter man, only because the little guy was currently standing on the buggy’s cushioned seat. “Are you sure you were paying attention to the big guy when he went through the instructions?”

“Pay attention? Man! Did you see the way he was holding my shirt collar? How could I even breathe?!”

Devon had to silently concur. Casey’s piercing eyes alone should’ve been enough to singe Morgan’s mouth shut. “That’s high enough.”

“Is it too obvious?”

“No, it’s perfect,” Devon assured the little guy, barely looking up as he tore off a few more strips.

“Well, I feel ... honestly, a bit idiotic doing this.”

“You heard him. Anyone who is looking for it will see it ... but if you’re not looking, you’ll probably miss it.”

“So it should be higher then?” Standing on his tiptoes, Morgan jumped and caught a loftier branch. Well, only if a smack in the face counts. “Now that stings.” He jumped again, causing the buggy to rock side to side. “Got you!”

“Hey, what are you doing, bro?” Devon snatched the reins before the stomping horses decided to bolt and waited for the carriage to stop rocking. When it did, he pointed his head up to Morgan and furrowed his brows. “Trying to get us killed?”

“Nooo. I’m only trying to get ... it up a ... little ... bit more. Ah. There.”

“Man, I told you. That’s high enough.” Devon shook his head and ripped off the next strip. “Tie it off and climb down. We’ll pull up to the fork in the road. Bryce will be taking them to the east. About a quarter mile up.”

“East?”

“Don’t ask, man, just come down,” Devon told him.

“You think Bryce will see it?” Morgan asked.

“Red against gold.” The reiteration made both men look up. Maybe John Casey knew what he was talking about. The crimson strip of cloth, fluttering on the oak branch against a ruffling swell of yellow leaves, would be difficult to find, but not impossible. “That’s what the big guy said to do – and when it comes to Chuck, I don’t think I want to question him. Do you?”

“Not especially.”

“Good. Then come on. Next stop up ahead. Not too much further after that, and then we’ll get off the road and take cover.”

Morgan took a second to examine his handiwork and plopped down on the seat. Wanting to head him off before he could ask more questions, Devon snapped the reins and the carriage lurched forward.

Of course, it didn’t stop the little guy in the least.

“Do you think he’s ... killed people?” Morgan asked, tentative. “Casey? I mean, he looks a little rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

“Let’s not talk about it, bro.”

“All righty, then, have you thought about this? What I’m trying to say is ... do you think he and Chuck are ...” and Morgan paused to do a little head wiggle back and forth, “uh, more than just friends? Oh. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, right man? Everybody needs a little – well, you know. Companionship?”

Devon decided the best answer was to speed up the horses.

-x-

Straight off another near death experience – it was hard to lose track of something like that, twice in a matter of twenty-four hours - Bryce seriously asked himself why he had offered to cut the deal with Chuck’s dad. And worse, with that giant asshat, John Casey. The one saving grace, keeping him from ditching the men and hopping the first train back to Atlanta, was the matter of a healthy reward.

Well, now to just find a way to get it. So far, there was no sign of Chuck, though, Bryce figured, most of his time in most in the dilapidated plantation house had been hampered by having a gun up his nose.

Things were now looking up. Bryce folded his arms over his chest, his confidence returning, and his voice went into ‘let’s make a deal’ mode. “I can arrange for a meeting,” he began, “if that’s what you’re looking for. Or ... take you to John Casey. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

At the same second Liam opened his mouth, gunshots rang out from the yard. As Bryce and Liam swung around, a bullet shattered the window, sending glass exploding into the darkened parlor.

“I want my money!” a voice called out from the porch. “All of it!”

Confusion flavored Liam’s expression only for a moment before it was replaced seething anger. “And look who just became annoying,” he growled, pulling his gun out of his vest. “It will be a pleasure putting a bullet between his eyes.”

More gunshots, puncturing the air with their shock. Bullets blasted through a window closer to the desk where they stood. “Jesus, we gotta stop him or he’ll get in a lucky shot!” the crony hissed, ducking low.

Liam and Bryce did the same, ducking behind the desk. “Over there,” Liam ordered, motioning to his grubby lieutenant. “Get to the door and distract him.” With bullets, Bryce heard plain as day. “When he tries to get off another shot, I’ll give the bastard a little surprise. I plan on thanking him for the gaping hole in the window he kindly made for us just now.”

The crony nodded and glowered at Bryce with a look that said he should stay put. Like hell he would. Without another word, Liam and the goon split up, staying low and nearly crawling. The ruffian headed for the doorway, Liam for the other end of the parlor. When he reached the side of the door, the goon leveled off his gun, and a new spate of gunfire rattled the walls, peppering the space between the men.

Bryce stayed crouched down, not sure if the bullets could penetrate the desk and at the moment unwilling to find out. He peered between the legs of the desk, watching until the men moved out of his line of sight, trying to make out the details of his surroundings. Storage crates lay in piles on the dirty floor, he could see patches of the parlor wall torn out, missing, boards sagging. When he was brought in, he had caught a glimpse of a center hallway. Where could it lead to? Chuck?

Footsteps clattered across the hall. Someone fired off two shots. No screams of pain, so obviously, they missed.

More footsteps, moving farther away. Farther away? “They left me?” Bryce whispered, incredulous. The men had unwittingly given him an opening, and by God, he was going to take it.

He’d only have a few minutes before they realize what they’ve done, Bryce thought. So he tightened his fists for resolve, dithered for half a second – go! – and vaulted over the desk -

Just in time to see the two men hunched down in the dining room across the hallway, consumed in their gunfight.

All right, that definitely was his breath picking up. This was it.

With one more pep talk – no dying, okay - Bryce sprinted down the corridor towards the back of the house, not even sparing them another look. Stumbling on a frayed rug, he climbed to his feet and tore off again. Which room? When he rounded a corner, he came smack into a dead end and turned around. There were two doors down that way. He quickly swung them opened and closed. Nothing. Dammit! He didn’t dare call out for Chuck.

The house was large. Musty nooks and alcoves, as if taunting him with the number of places one skinny guy could get stashed. As Bryce slid into the kitchen, careering into the table, he saw a small doorway off the left. Cook’s chambers, he knew. A tiny room tucked in the back of the house where kitchen servants, and before that slaves, were kept out of the way, yet giving them easy access to the stove and the farm yard.

Bryce dashed around the table and tore the door open. There wasn’t much daylight in the minuscule room, but when he looked inside, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Chuck?” Bryce’s brain fed him a lightening quick and disturbing image of his old college roommate. He lay on a tattered quilt, bare except for a pair of ratty jeans. Everything about him reeked. Dirt-covered and sweaty, he looked exhausted, bewildered, but most of all, terrified. “Are you okay?”

“Bryce?” Chuck rolled and abruptly sat up. The movement must’ve zinged through a bruise next to his eye. He winced and then blurted, “What are you doing here?!”

“Keep your voice down.” Bryce waved off the confused look, strode over to him, and whipped out the blade the idiot crony never bothered looking for after finding the first one. And if he didn’t hate John Casey more than any other man on earth, he’d thank him for stuffing it in his boot. “Hold still.”

“Hold still? Is that a knife?” Instantly, Chuck scrambled backwards against the wall, attempting to scuttle like a crab. Except one ankle was tied to a length of rope around the bedpost, and another cord wound around his wrists and then was tied to the headboard. “Why – why are you here? You’re not going to – are you working with him? What’s going on?”

Bryce repressed a flinch at the lack of trust. There was a chance he probably deserved it. He’d deserve much more before the day was out. “Be quiet,” and going for the ankle rope first, Bryce sawed away at it. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Why? How did you get here? Ah – ouch.” The rope came free just as the sound of a gunshot crackled through the air. They didn’t even get a chance to move before they heard another. Somebody shouted. It came rushing back, the brutal reality that they were far from safe. “What is going on out there?! Bryce?”

Ignoring him, Bryce wasted no time moving up to the cord between his ex-friend’s wrists and the slats. Hastily cutting away, the rope snapped, but thinking twice before cutting the bonds that held his wrists together, Bryce pulled Chuck to his feet.

“C’mon,” he said, hauling him towards the door, “we have to run.”

-x-

“You may want to slow down a little, buddy,” Bryce said after Chuck lowered his head to the stream for at least the fifth time. “If you drink that too quickly, you won’t be able to keep it down. Sort of like the night we became slightly inebriated at Lushington’s? After Crunty the Cruel’s final exam?”

“There was nothing slight about it,” Chuck mumbled, and he scooped up more water. Though Chuck knew Bryce was probably being sensible, the kid couldn’t find it in himself to care. The water from the narrow creek, which had to be bubbling up from a spring beyond the bend, was ice cold, hit him with the scent of fresh moss, and most importantly, felt like heaven going down. He leaned over the brook, knees sinking into the soft earth, and nothing – even Bryce’s attempt at buddying up to him – would stop him from taking another huge gulp.

“Nobody followed us,” Bryce said.

“Mm.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Chuck rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. It came back wet. “Yeah, I’m just great.”

“Hey, look at it his way, Chuck.” Bryce put a hand on Chuck’s bare back before slipping it over his shoulder to try and nudge him backwards. “At least there’s no trouble yet. And I got you out of there, didn’t I?”

“You were a little slow with the ropes,” Chuck observed, rubbing his reddened, bruised wrists. “Did you really need to drag me fifty yards before I had to tell you to untie me?”

Bryce’s gaze shifted to the side a little guiltily before he looked down at his own hands. “Maybe you should take a break before you get sick.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Chuck said, pushing back his scorn with pure force. That did confirm one thing. The kid had to admit he was still a bit pissed over his friend’s invitation to his hotel room a few nights ago.

Chuck cleared the rust from his throat and took the hint, however, to slow down or he would be feeling the water coming back up in minute or two. Sitting back on his knees, he dried his lips with his forearm and took a look at the clearing where they had stopped to rest. When was the last time one of the men brought him water? Or food for that matter?

The past forty-eight hours were balled up like mud in his brain. A hundred times in two days he had pictured Casey barreling through the doorway to rescue him. None of the scenarios even remotely considered that Bryce Larkin would be the one slinking into the dingy back bedroom to lead him out of that hell hole.

But nothing could beat the strangeness – and terror, can’t forget that - of being on the run with him. The men had trekked through the deep thicket for a good mile, Chuck estimated, and if he was dirty and reeking before that, he now had thin bloody scratches over his torso to add to the mixture of dried dirt and bruises.

Chuck’s physical appearance, one he pegged squarely between misery and exhaustion, was only emphasized when he stood close to Bryce. The first thing Chuck noticed was that Bryce had managed to come out with less dirt and scratches somehow. It helped that he had a chambray shirt and suede vest to cover himself, whereas Chuck had lost his shirt long ago. It also helped that he was Bryce Larkin, and nothing seemed to ruffle his appearance.

Glad that hadn’t changed, Chuck thought with a healthy amount of cynicism.

“Bryce, answer the question,” Chuck said without looking over at him. “What are you doing here? And where is Casey?”

Bryce nudged his shoulder again to make him meet his eyes. As soon as Chuck turned his gaze on him, he saw the secret smile Bryce put to use when he wanted something. “Casey sent me here to meet with Liam.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His hurt look seemed genuine. “It was a way to draw Liam out, away from the planation. Casey knew he’d be walking straight into an ambush if he came here alone.”

“So he sent you.” Chuck scoffed. Bending over, he dipped a hand in the water, dragging it over his skin to wash off a layer of dirt and blood from his chest. God, what he needed was an eight hour bath. Immediately, the icy creek made his ribcage hitch as it trickled down his flat stomach, a shiver traveling through him. “I’m sorry, Bryce, but I have a hard time digesting the fact that Casey would team up with you.”

“Why?”

Chuck slanted his head at Bryce, mystified that his ex-friend didn’t get it. “He hates you. Quite passionately.”

“I don’t know, I think he’s warming up to me,” Bryce said.

“Oh, trust me. If his eyes could shoot bullets, your skin would look like honeycomb. So forgive me if I have a hard time believing this was his plan.”

“Why do you think this is a problem?”

“Well.” Chuck motioned a hand listlessly between them. “Having me being ... alone with you ....”

Somehow confused, Bryce reached out an arm and steadied Chuck. Maybe it looked like he was going to fall in. “Yeah?”

“I think that pretty much just describes my boyfriend’s worst nightmare.” Chuck gave him one more pointed look and cupped his palm in the creek, splashing water over his upper arm. “Ouch.” Immediately, he hissed when he accidently tried to scrub away a mark that ended up being a bruise. “Dammit.”

“Sure you’re okay?” Bryce gave him a supportive smile as his eyes traveled over Chuck’s half naked body. Maybe he was trying to be sympathetic to his plight, but having Bryce watch him like that made the kid feel uncomfortable.

“I told you, I’m just peachy,” Chuck said. He scowled in his direction irritably, despite his friend’s grin. “What happened back there? And more importantly, what the hell is going on, Bryce?”

His companion picked up a pebble and gave it a toss, looking past his shoulder. “When I got inside, an opportunity presented itself,” he explained. “It wasn’t exactly what your ... partner and I discussed, but it was a chance worth taking.”

“I knew it. I’m not supposed to be here with you.”

“No, but either way, you are now, and we have to get moving. Do you think you have a few more miles in you?”

Chuck wanted to groan at the thought of walking, let alone running. Everything ached. “This is revenge for all the times I beat you at a footrace, isn’t it?”

“You never could beat me at darts, though.”

“Point,” Chuck had to acquiesce. “I heard gunshots. How in the heck did we get away?”

“A diversion.”

Chuck rested his elbows on his knees and let out a huff. “Could you be more cryptic? Can I get a clue, a hint ..?”

“According to Liam, it was supposed to be Casey who came with the courier.” Bryce angled around, peering into the woods they had just loped through for the past twenty minutes. “Let’s just say Casey’s old boss was a bit disappointed it was me – but not as disappointed as the man who insisted on getting paid for taking me to him. The courier decided to come back and ... let Mr. O’ Doherty get a little taste of his displeasure.”

“Please tell me Liam was shot,” Chuck muttered, cupping up one last handful of water to splash over his face. He paused to wipe his eyes. “Oh, and the smaller one with bad breath. Rudy? I wouldn’t mind if he took a bullet as well.”

“Wow.” The vehemence made Bryce blink. He got down on his haunches next to him, giving Chuck a momentary squint of disbelief. “I have to say this. The old Chuck would never be able to utter those words. Wishing another man could be shot?”

“What makes you so sure?” Chuck asked. “And I’d say given what’s happened to me, turning a little bitter makes sense, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not that guy,” Bryce said.

Somehow, just one more offhand, self-assured comment was enough for the anger Chuck felt lurking inside with the fear begin to take over. He could be any guy, he could be that guy. With the way his life was going, he wanted to be that guy.

“You don’t know me anymore,” Chuck said. Had he ever really known him?

“You were never bitter,” Bryce refuted, reaching down to scoop water, taking a drink of his own. “If anything, you were the most gentle ... well, bashful man I had ever met.”

Chuck brushed hair out of his eyes and inched his knees further away from his ex-friend. The talk had become personal, and he wasn’t going to fall for any of that again. Especially to be kissed by him like the ambush in the workshop. “Give me another minute or so. Then ... I’ll be ready to go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bryce studying his profile. “Why do you hate me, buddy?”

“Why? You have to be kidding.” Chuck took a long drink and shook his head. The sullenness in his own voice surprised him. Even now, did he still hate Bryce? When Bryce had somewhat cooperated with Casey and made an attempt to rescue him?

“Come on,” Bryce sweet-talked. He laid a hand on Chuck’s knee. “Talk to me.”

Chuck closed his eyes briefly, jaw flexing, too abashed to look at him. “Not that now is the time to discuss it, but after what happened between us, do you really have to ask? Geez, Bryce.”

“Hey, no way. You can’t ignore me.” When the kid continued to stare across the brook, Bryce startled him by taking his chin in his hand. He steered his face around, forcing Chuck lock eyes with him. “What’s there to be ashamed of, hm? It was just sex, right?”

“Just ... s-sex?” Chuck’s mouth fell open. All this time, had he been blind to the fact that his friend was this flippant? Or better yet, a jackass? “You’ll never change, will you?”

“Why should I?” Bryce shoulder bumped him playfully and flashed an easy smile. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Chuck jolted forward and slowly dropped his hands to his sides. Without even knowing it, fists formed. “Why did you do it?”

“You know why.”

No, he never did.

***

It had seemed like an afterthought, a spur of the moment decision, but Bryce taking him to the darkest place they could find - dark trees, dark river, dark sky – away from the wide, real world with the presence of light and people might’ve been by design. They ended up stumbling into a place near the bank of the river, a hidden hole where the night wouldn’t let secrets escape.

A small stand of trees provided cover from the walking path. The celebratory booze they had copped from Bryce’s dad made him warm, too warm, and his roommate – maybe to be helpful – had unbuttoned Chuck’s shirt. Chuck couldn’t get his mind around it. Why was Bryce touching his clothes, touching him?

Jesus, what? Details seeped in. Bryce gave the impression he knew what he was doing. Maybe he had done this before. Chuck lay still at first, his brain swimming in the booze and warmth of another body, close. His roommate stroked his hands down his shoulders, helping him work out a few kinks that came with a too-intense studying session the night before.

Helping him relax, being a good friend.

For the longest time, Bryce’s hands smoothed down his spine, massaging. The kid didn’t remember how he lost his shirt, just the chill of the night air against his skin, letting him know it was gone. He did remember being held down on the grass, the weight of Bryce’s body on top of him. He’d been half bare, as he was now, except on his back. Looking up between the fluttering leaves, Chuck could see it was a moonless night. Somehow ... Bryce got his hands on Chuck’s trousers. Then there was cool dew against Chuck’s backside and bare thighs.

Bryce, for some reason, kept going. He didn’t know to ... stop.

Uncomfortable and hot and cold at the same time, Chuck tried to flip and heave him off. Instead, he found himself pinned under him, Bryce kissing him hard. When Bryce then ran his hand over Chuck’s chest, thumb tracing his ribs, shifting to open his legs wider, Chuck couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift his wrists out from under Bryce’s grip.

“Let me,” Bryce had murmured, laying his body fully on him. “Just let me.” What was he doing? As Bryce shifted his hips into a new position – weird, why was he moving like that? – he gave him a few dragging strokes, rubbing his hard cock against Chuck’s. “All this time ... admit it. You wanted it, didn’t you?”

Chuck blinked at him sluggishly. His eyelids felt like bird’s wings. “Wanted what now?” God, he really should’ve stopped drinking hours ago. Because if Bryce thought he meant to -

Bryce chuckled and nipped at his neck. “Say you want to.”

Chuck opened his mouth and took in a breath, ready to tell him no, they should go back home. He got that far before his roommate swept his tongue in again.

“Come on ....” Bryce whispered against his cheek after Chuck had succumbed to a kiss. Bryce didn’t let up; he kissed, not his mouth, but along his bare shoulder, teasing the sharp line of bone and muscle there, scraping his cheek and teeth along it. “Last night here at Harvard, Chuck. Let me take care of you ....”

“Wait ....”

“Really, Chuck?” Bryce gave a sexy, low laugh. His hand slid down, landing in a place Chuck was almost certain he had never given him permission to touch. “If you think those noises are meant to hold me back, you’re drunker than I thought.”

There was no waiting. Bryce could do anything he wanted, taking the lead as he always did. Too drugged by the stolen hootch and the exhilaration of putting this phase of their life behind them, Chuck found it impossible to just buck him off.

Why was this okay? Misinterpretation? Just because a minute ago Chuck’s hands were lying on the grass. Fingers half curled, palm up, suggesting his surrender. Not fighting him.

“Bryce, you have to -”

Only Bryce responded by increasing the pressure behind the kisses. When Chuck would’ve freed his hand, Bryce’s grip slid to his wrist, holding him down, caressing the pulse. Easing him through it, the pain he was bound to feel at first.

Somewhere along the way, Bryce rolled him over and fucked him into the grass. And after Bryce climaxed, deep inside him, he sprawled out next to Chuck, one hand drifting up and down the skin over the last line of ribs before his flat stomach.

Chuck couldn’t move yet. Vaguely, he could see a pile of tangled clothing over at the base of the tree. “All this time untouchable, weren’t you, Chuck?” Bryce grinned over at him before he ran his hand down the smooth flesh of his stomach one last time. “God, you feel so fucking good. Go ahead, you can admit it. All this time, you were waiting for me.”

The whispered assessment, skin to skin, brought Chuck back to the reality of finding himself naked and cold on the wet grass.

“You okay, buddy?” Bryce asked.

That was when Chuck got up to find his pants.

***

Chuck took only a second or two to jerk his head out of Bryce’s palm. “Figures,” he muttered, and made sure his hand wasn’t shaking when he cupped it for one final drink. Of course Bryce Larkin never thought he did something so wrong. “I may have changed, but you know what, Bryce? You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You were irresistible,” Bryce said in a low voice, perhaps wondering if that would suffice for an apology, or from his angle, why he felt like he needed to give one in the first place. “You were too shy to ask me to do anything before that night.”

Ask him? It took everything not to punch him. Common sense told the kid he may be able to start a fight, but he was in no condition to finish it.

“Maybe we should split up now.” Chuck avoided looking at him by drying off his hands on his ripped jeans. “I think we would have a better chance making two sets of tracks.”

“You’re doing it again,” Bryce said, the verge of exasperation creeping in. “What you always used to do.”

“I have an idea.” It probably would help to slug him, but Chuck just rubbed his cheek and set his chin. “Why don’t you stay put and see if you can create a diversion when they find you? Just try not to get any blood on the vest. I’m guessing its Casey’s, and he gets pretty pissed when people mess with his things.”

“Come on, Chuck. Buddy. Don’t be that way.” Bryce tapped his arm, and when Chuck dared to look at him, he saw he was caught in the light of one of those disarming smiles. That used to work. “It was a win-win, I figure.”

“Who won, Bryce?”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Oh, God.” Chuck put a hand on his forehead and massaged his temple. If Bryce kept talking, he might just break his non-violence rule, forget that he was in no condition to throw a punch, and smash that arrogant smile off his face. He could hear Casey’s voice in his head, cautioning him to get the hell out of the way and save it for him. Still, Chuck feigned calmness and shook his head. “Amazing. Just amazing. You really are still that guy. After all this time.”

“So are you. Just like now.” Bryce had the audacity to sound as if he was explaining something to a child. “Look at you. Chuck, always the genius, the nice guy with a great smile. But too damn shy to even initiate a kiss. You reminded me of a ... well, don’t take this the wrong way, but ... a lovesick schoolgirl, right?”

Everything in Chuck went deathly silent, not even an echo. He slowly sat back on his haunches and folded his arms over his chest, elbows on his knees. “Do me a favor and jump in the creek, will you?”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Bryce said, reaching over to nudge him. “You got to bask in a bit of attention that you wouldn’t have had otherwise. Did you ever think that what happened along the riverbank was exactly what you needed?” His ex-best friend looked up into the trees where a bird began to squawk and shrugged to himself. “So I thought, why not give you the thrill?”

“A thrill?” Chuck couldn’t resist a parting shot as he rose to his feet. “For the record Bryce, the whole love them and leave them routine you seem to have going didn’t leave me with anything but -”

“Not a broken heart, I hope?”

“I was going to say the gleets. But hey, thankfully my wanker didn’t fall off so there’s a bright side to everything. Here’s something for you, Bryce. Look up the definition of ‘betrayal’ in the dictionary sometime. You might find it enlightening. Oh, you’ll have to look past ‘asshole’ to find it.”

Bryce rolled his eyes and moved to stand in front of him. “Listen, if you think about it, I was just ... imparting a little experience. Admit it: you never even had bodily contact with another man until that night, did you?”

Chuck turned to stare – yes, Bryce was serious – and pushed himself a few feet away. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” His jaw tightened, and he glanced instinctively past his shoulder. No time for a pissing match. “Would you mind getting out of my way? I’m leaving.”

Bryce heaved a put-out sigh and stepped closer, startling the taller man. Gone was the flirty jollity. Instead, he looked very solemn. “I’m sorry, Chuck,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

x- End Chapter Nine Where the Road Ends -x-


	10. Chapter Ten

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Ten

-x-

Chuck stared at Bryce Larkin and folded his arms over his bare chest. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. Just now, when I said I’m leaving, you thought that was a suggestion. So let me explain. I’ll take my chances out there,” and the kid paused to motion vaguely at the woods, “on my own. But, hey, thanks for the offer.”

Bryce sighed and looked away, into the forest. “You don’t have a choice.”

Jerk. “You really haven’t changed one bit if you think that’s true,” Chuck remarked. A jolt of resolve made him stand up a bit taller, and no matter how sublimely perfect it had to be to walk in his friend’s shoes, Chuck was thankful for those few inches over him, at least. “I’m done with you telling me what I can and can’t do. Get out of my way, Bryce.”

Bryce shook his head. “Look at you, Chuck … you’ll never make it on your own.” That was odd. Chuck almost squinted at him, wondering exactly what the other man wasn’t saying. The way Bryce tilted his head at him, the fact that his eyes were so hot on his they were burning, it all seemed telling. Not that Bryce was telling him anything at all. “Obviously, you need me right now.”

“Oh, obviously,” Chuck echoed. Okay, he could barely keep up without wheezing. Still, the kid felt the stab of insult at the arrogance of it all. He thought he was holding up pretty damn well, considering everything.

“Do you really think you have miles more in those legs? You’ll be on the ground by the time we reach a place called Deacon’s hill.” With a shrug at that thought, Bryce turned and looked to the east. “With me, you have a chance. I’ll carry you if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you to Casey. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“So I should trust you that you have my best interest at heart? Wow. Were you here during the conversation we just had?”

“Chuck, come on. Don’t be that way.”

“Me?” Chuck blinked at him. “Are you finished wasting my time now? Because I have this little life or death situation I have to attend to.”

“You’re right.” His ex-friend pasted on a smile that indicated he didn’t quite get the gist. “I’m glad we were able to clear the air between us.”

“Clear the –?” Chuck trailed off and simply gaped. Maybe he should start walking before he punched him. “If you don’t have a gun or food, you’re no use to me. See you later, Bryce.” The kid tightened his lips and moved to go.

Bryce surged forward and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Chuck, wait. That would be a bad idea.”

“Why?”

Bryce hedged. “Casey’s not in town,” he admitted. “It was too dangerous there. But I do know ... where he’s waiting.”

“And where would that be?”

“I can take you there, I promise.” Bryce released his wrist, quickly perused the clearing before the charming smile returned. The meaning was clear. That was all he was going to divulge.

Yeah, perfect. Something else that never changed. The Great Bryce Larkin always had an ace in his back pocket.

“Maybe I’ll take my chances,” Chuck snapped, but he’d gone dead pale and was beginning to sway. Running the first few miles wasn’t easy, hoofing it all the way into Beauford would be trickier. He put one hand on a tree trunk until the world stopped gradually floating.

“Chuck?” Bryce took his shoulder, and the buddy-buddy look was wiped away, edged out by concern. “Hey, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

Chuck looked down at his dirty bare feet. “Lunch time.”

“Lunch? Really?”

Chuck winced. “Yesterday.”

Crap. Maybe Bryce had a point. Maybe he couldn’t make the trek on his own.

He could see the wheels working in Bryce’s head even as he stared at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “Okay, maybe we didn’t clear the air back there. Fine. You still hate me. But I’m trying to fix it ... if you’ll let me.” Bryce pushed his hands through his hair, something he always did when he was flustered. “I mean, you’re never going to make it back to Casey if you don’t come with me. Look at you, buddy. You’re in no shape for this. Honestly, showing up into town like that? You’re going to draw attention to yourself. What if Liam or his friends are already there waiting? Do you really think you can slink by without someone noticing you?”

Chuck didn’t say anything, simply looking down at his sweat-streaked and filthy chest and torn jeans as an answer. It had taken that long for Chuck to remember Liam had plucked the buttons off his pants, and the dark hair arrowing low on his belly was hardly a decent sight for public viewing. There would be attention, all right.

“Nice plan.” The kid shook his head. “No food, no water. Oh, and clothing optional.”

Bryce’s eyes traveled down Chuck’s body, assessing the rips in his jeans. “Sorry. If we knew it was going to work out this way, I would’ve had provisions with me. We’re just going to have to stay off the main roads and make a run for town. It’s not that far. Oh, and ... I would offer you a belt for your pants since I can see you’re, ah ... well, or even a shirt, but sorry, I don’t have that either.”

“Clearly, except the one you’re wearing,” Chuck muttered. The lining of his stomach was about to eat it from the inside out, but he gamely stood on his shaky legs. “I’m heading this way.”

“We are. We’re not separating. I hate to have to do this – but you’re staying with me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chuck said, finally acquiescing as he attempted to pull his shoulder free. “But I can walk without your help.”

“Sure you can,” Bryce said, sarcasm dripping as he dug his fingers in and steered him in the opposite direction they had come. “This way.”

The kid, used to being manhandled like this by now, didn’t even stumble upon finding himself pushed into an abrupt trot. Moving his body, remembering they needed to flee, made his thoughts descend from utter annoyance to straight out fear that Liam would eventually figure out what happened and catch up to them. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Can you go any faster?”

Chuck gave him a look: get real.

Without looking over at him, Bryce veered them to the left. “Listen, I can’t change what happened to you back there,” he said, briefly jerking his head in the direction they had come, “but ... the place I’m taking you is going to help ... get your old life back on track.”

“Did it occur to you that two nights ago my life was finally going right? Until you and Liam showed up again?”

“You have no idea what that outlaw – er, Casey - is capable of.” Bryce gave him a little shove and pointed down a slope where the brush wasn’t as thick. “Over there. Move.”

“Yeah, well, you might get an idea of what he’s capable of when we get there.”

Bryce ignored the implication by rolling his eyes and shoved him again. “That way.”

“Okay, okay. Geez.” They set off at a moderate pace – or what seemed moderate when Chuck hadn’t been beaten, threatened, groped, starved, and kicked. Now it felt like hell, like sandpaper against his throat. Bryce was probably stifled, but he didn’t comment or complain. He just loped beside him, grabbing Chuck’s arm and hauling him along when it looked like Chuck was ready to put his hands on his knees and cough up the water he had guzzled.

Half a mile behind them, the kid took a sidelong assessment of his friend, wondering how he was holding up. Figures. Even when Bryce was fleeing for his life, there was smoothness to everything he did, a grace that followed through him everywhere, whether he was dodging the twisted vines on the ground or holding court with the ladies – and gents, because, heck, everyone thought he was pretty – at the Queen’s Head Tavern. Nothing ruffled him.

Shit.

“We can stop here for a minute,” Bryce said, pulling him behind a tree. “If you can be quiet, I might be able to hear if anyone is following us.”

“So maybe it would be more convenient for you if quit I breathing?” Chuck asked and put his hands on his knees. His lungs felt like they were being sliced by rope. “This was supposed to make me stop hating you, huh?”

“I always had your best interests at heart, Chuck.” Bryce seemed to read his thoughts on that one. He gave Chuck a droll look. “The last night in Boston ... what you wanted. I hope you see it that way.”

Chuck was gasping more than a little, but at the moment saying the words burning in his head was more important than battling to stay on his feet. “One more thing to ... clear the air.”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you enough,” Chuck told him, “that I want you to repeat the story about that night tomorrow.”

Bryce swung his head around and raised his eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“Because we’ll be within earshot of my boyfriend.”

-x-

“This is supposed to be the place.” Devon tied off the horse’s lead rope around a maple tree and nodded over at the wagon. “The trees here should block the view. I don’t think anyone will be able to see her from the road.”

“And one bucket of water coming up,” Morgan said, heading over from the small pond at the bottom of the hill. Water sloshed over the top and onto his shoes, but the nervous little guy didn’t seem to notice. “What did you say her name was?”

“Willow,” Devon replied. He cast a glance around the secluded path, over the wheat-colored grass flowing to the cattails at the edge of the fishpond. “She knows these back roads better than I do.”

Morgan set the bucket down and stepped to the side. “There you go, girl.” While the horse dipped her head to take a drink, he ran a hand gingerly down the horse’s neck, but his eyes scrunched.

Devon already knew that look well. Morgan was building up to something, and it was torturing him not to talk. Just like Devon’s quirky – and missing - roommate, the best way to get him to open up was silence. Not that he needed to spit it out. They were there for a reason, one that gave the doctor a case of nausea at just the thought of it.

“Should we, uh, get back up the hill now?” Morgan asked, shooting a furtive look up the slope. “What if Bryce is up the road by now ... and he’s being followed?”

And we have to shoot the followers, an angry voice that sounded a lot like Chuck’s ruffian friend added in Devon’s ear.

“You have a point.” Devon waited, warily. Deciding they had dragged their feet long enough, he patted the horse’s neck and peered towards the path they had taken to the edge of the pond. “Hey, maybe there won’t be anyone coming up behind them. Did you think of that, bro?”

“Listen, man, I have to ask: are you going to be able to do this?” Morgan skimmed the area and automatically lowered his voice. “I mean, I know you probably made some assumptions about me – being from the territories and all? Maybe thinking I’m a gunslinger like Casey? – but I’ve never had to shoot a man. Did I mention that?”

“A few times,” Devon said. “And to be honest, bro, I didn’t think you came off as a gunslinger. Come on, let’s go.”

“You didn’t answer, man. Are you?”

Devon started to reach for the gun in his jacket. For a million reasons, it felt strange to think about pulling it out and aiming it at a man, so he left it where it was. Would he? How could he answer that? “Well, bro,” Devon said, managing to infuse confidence into his voice. “I think we’re going to do whatever is needed if it means getting our friend back in one piece.”

Morgan bobbed his head, not sure exactly if that was an answer. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Come on, let’s head out, then.” Devon motioned that Morgan should follow him. Together, they trotted up the crest of a knoll, Casey’s orders ringing between the doctor’s ears. Find a hill, somewhere with a view, but a cover of trees. Well, this would work. Devon had stopped them exactly where the sloped expanse of the rolling hill would provide a panoramic view of the golden straw fields beneath them. It did make sense, Devon reckoned, though what kind of experience did he have at an ambush?

“Hey, no worries, Doc,” Morgan said when they reached the top, waving a listless hand as he doubled over. “I’ll wait and let you ah, ah, stop wheezing.”

“Uh, sure, bro.” Devon gave him a quizzical look and turned to squint against the sun, over the grasses ruffling in the breeze, and beyond to the forested backdrop. More importantly, they had a sweeping view of the two track trail from east to west. The occasional call of redwing blackbirds and the shriek of a hawk gave the illusion that it was a normal evening in the back country.

Normal? Who was he kidding? Killing a man wasn’t normal for a well-bred country doctor!

Devon fingered the grip of his gun again and hunched his shoulders as they moved over to a patch of thorny bushes. “Remember, stay low – though, you won’t have as much of a problem with – what is it?’

Morgan stiffened and his eyes went wide. “Oh. That’s not good,” he said, half choking.

“What?” Devon was already spinning to follow his line of sight. “Do you see – gah. Oh .... hey.”

A lady emerged from around the trunk of a wide black willow tree. Where she had come from, Devon had no clue.

“Hello, gentlemen,” the woman said dryly, eyeing them suspiciously.

How did this happen? One minute his biggest worry was trying to remember to get the safety off his gun, and the next, a woman he had never seen before was standing next to a tree growing sideways out of the knoll.

With a gun pointed right at Devon’s chest. Oh, hell.

“Do we know you?” Devon asked, unable to fathom that a woman had snuck up on two men. Maybe Casey had a point. Quite possibly they could use some practice at stalking.

“We haven’t met,” the strange woman answered. It struck him that she was tall for a female, a brunette with dark curls flowing under a wide brimmed hat and wearing a long brown duster much like a man’s. He’d estimate she was beautiful if he could see past the barrel of her rather intimidating rifle. “Are you Dr. Woodcomb?”

“What? Who, me?” Devon berated himself for letting his hands fly up in the air, but he chocked it up to element of surprise. When he dared to slant a look at his accomplice, he saw Morgan had fared no better. Worse, in fact, since he had actually dropped his loaner Colt on the ground in front of him.

The woman narrowed her almond-shaped eyes at Devon first before shifting to appraise Morgan. “Well, he was right about one thing. You are going to need some help.”

“Help us with what?” Devon felt like he’d been dumped in the middle of a mystery. “Are you sure you should be out here, ma’am? All by yourself?”

“Well, for starters, I’m hardly a ma’am.” The woman edged forward a step. “And I’m fairly certain, doctor, I can take care of myself. Miss Molly and I manage just fine. Now, be a good boy – that goes for both of you – and keep your hands up where I can see them until we get this little enigme straightened out. Oui?”

Devon gave her a strange look. “You’re not from around here.”

“What tipped you off?” Switching to a single-handed grip on her rifle, she bent down and grabbed Morgan’s gun off the ground without breaking eye contact with Devon. “This revolver is familiar. Where did you get it?”

“Please put the gun down.” Devon gave a brave look at her ironic stare. “We won’t hurt you.”

It startled a laugh out of her. “I think there’s more of a chance of you wetting yourself.”

“Man, she has a point,” Morgan hissed out the corner of his mouth.

The dismissive flick of her eyes over him effectively shut Morgan up. “You’re quite handsome,” she observed, flashing a sultry smile at Devon. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Um, well, do relatives count?” Morgan asked. “My Great Aunt Millie always told me that I was as cute as a button.” At the woman’s incredulous stare, Morgan shuffled his feet. “Oh, I bet you meant my friend here.”

“You like to talk, don’t you?” She swung the rifle’s barrel in Morgan’s direction, her eyes sweeping over the smaller man. “Yes, I meant your friend.”

“My mistake,” Morgan said hastily, staring down the barrel. “Carry on.”

The woman hesitated a moment and returned her focus to Devon. A new layer of sweat popped out all over his skin when it also included leveling the gun back at him. “You haven’t answered my question, handsome.”

“I’m, uh – sorry.” Devon was already forcing himself to swallow through a throat that was closing up. “It’s just that I rarely see a woman who -”

“-can shoot a silver dollar off a fence post from a hundred yards away?” the woman asked in an amused purr.

“I was going to say wearing riding britches,” Devon said. Careful to keep his hands high, he dared a glimpse down at her denim-clad legs and tall boots. “No offense, Miss, but, ah, most of the women here in Carteret County wouldn’t be seen dead in dungarees.”

“How quaint.” Luckily, she chuckled and waved it off as a compliment. “I’m not most women. Is there a reason you’re being difficult?”

“I don’t mean to be, Miss ...?”

She surveyed Devon’s confused expression and let out a sigh. “You’re name, joli garcon.”

Was he supposed to give his name on a stakeout? Casey didn’t cover the protocols, but the gun seemed to be saying yes. “Oh, oh, sure. Right.” The doctor collected himself and exchanged a look with Morgan, who was also keeping busy by gawping while holding his hands up in surrender. Maybe Casey was right about their lack of prowess. “Excuse me, but you seem to be at an advantage.” Taking a chance, he extended a hand to the strange woman. “A pleasure to meet you.”

She regarded the hand with a deeper frown.

“I see,” Devon said, pulling it back to discreetly wipe it on his vest. More persuasive measures were necessary, so he swapped it out for the preeminent weapon in the arsenal and pointed a smile with a mouthful of perfect teeth. “I’m Dr. Woodcomb. And you are ...?”

“Bored.” The dark haired beauty turned her sights, gun barrel and all, on the smaller man. “You must be Moron,” she said and cocked her head at him. “Strange name. Your parents must hate you.”

“Um, what?” Morgan’s face twisted up. “Who told you that?”

“He did.”

“He?”

The woman moved a shoulder. “I think you know who we’re talking about, little man.”

If the oui didn’t clue him in, the way she pronounced leetle when referring to Morgan was a dead giveaway. (The slightly snotty attitude was frosting, he figured.) The woman was definitely French.

Devon wondered briefly if he had done anything to offend the unruly nation. Nothing particularly came to mind, though the Empire did seem to have a low threshold for annoyance of any sort.

“My name is Mor-gan,” the smaller man told her, looking hurt. “Morgan Grimes of Kiowa County.”

“Humph.” After a long moment, she shrugged again. “I must’ve misheard him.”

The gun shifted back to Devon, dead center. It was getting harder to get past the deluge of fear eating away at his intestines, but the doctor saw that he really didn’t have a choice but to be the real man here.

“Let’s try this again,” and faltering only for a second, Devon crossed his arms over his chest and flaunted his height, “now that we’ve introduced ourselves, Miss, maybe you can tell us who you are? And what you’re doing here?”

“I was sent here ... by a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Let’s start with you telling me who sent you here.” Her voice had gone soft, dangerously so.

“Oh, hang on.” Devon held out both hands – a futile peacekeeping gesture – and ratcheted down on the manhood thing for a minute. “I appreciate that we’re all a little on edge, but if you put the gun down –”

“Uh, ha, wait. You could say he’s a rather tall man,” Morgan broke in quickly. “Shoulders out to here.” Those little hands flew out as wide as he could reach. “Oh, and he growls a lot. Any of this sound familiar?”

The peculiar woman swiveled around, taking a long hard look at Morgan, like he wore the plumage of a wild bird suddenly turning from dusky grey to vivid blue. “I’m familiar with a man like that, yes,” she said, sounding curious. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Well, you could think of it as a mission,” Morgan went on. “And I’m positive we’re talking about the same person who sent us.”

“What makes you think so?”

“His sense of humor, I expect,” Morgan muttered and sighed at her bewildered expression. “Let me put it this way. Moron? Not that it’s, well, true or anything, but he might’ve called me that. A few dozen times.” He elbowed the doctor and turned toward him, his manner suddenly eager. “Dude, it does confirm it! Casey sent her here.”

“Morgan, hm? I like you. You’re straight to the point.” Maybe for fun, she toyed with a lock of Morgan’s hair for a second, making the little man wilt. “I think I am in the right place, boys. Tell me something. You. Tall and Handsome. Are you always this nervous around the ladies?”

“No.” Frowning down at the barrel of the rifle, Devon added, “Unless there’s a reason we should be.”

The woman made a Casey-like noise. Maybe it was a like a secret handshake between the two, or a club. “You’re still alive, aren’t you? Because If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“Well, that’s heartening.” Morgan wrinkled his nose as they all studied each other carefully. “Personally, I feel so much safer now.”

She smiled faintly. “I’m Sabine. Johnnie and I have been friends for, well, let’s just say we remember things about each other that we only wish someone would forget.” The gun barrel at last lowered, enough to make Devon let out a breath. “Another friend of ours might’ve played an unknowing part in helping him lose something ... precious to him. Something he didn’t even know he was looking for all those years,” she added to herself.

“So you know about ..?” Devon prodded carefully.

“I think we’re talking about the same ... stolen article.”

The vague reference to a human being, especially the one wrapped up as Chuck Bartowski, ruffled the doctor. She had already proved it wasn’t necessary. Chuck was – whoa, where did that come from? - is a person. “You found Casey?”

“Yes, this morning. In his hotel room,” she replied, dropping the butt of the rifle to the ground. “When I opened the newspaper a week ago, I saw something that intrigued me. A story about young men with wild dreams. Men who want to fly like the ... faucons noirs. It intrigued me enough to buy a train ticket to your ... charming village.” Off her look, the doctor knew she meant the opposite of charming. “Luciana – my friend – and I hoped that there would be a way to help put the pieces back together.”

The tension in Devon’s shoulders gave a little. “We’re here for the same reason, then, I suppose – but why did Casey send you?”

“He believes you may have a problem doing what you need to do.”

“And he sent a woman?”

“Good thing that you’re handsome.” She tilted her head and smiled at him. “If the situation presents itself, I’ll take care of our little problem.”

“All right. This is it, man.” Morgan drew a slingshot from his pocket and smiled winningly. “Hey, if you really are here to help us get Chuck back, then that makes you one of our partners now, too.”

“Where did you get that?” she asked, eyeing the slingshot.

“Um.” Morgan, realizing his faux pas, put it behind his back. “Can we stay focused, please?”

“Never mind. Suffice to say, we’re on the same side, gentlemen. Chuck’s side ... and by proximity, John Casey’s. Now if you’re done with introductions, as amusing as they’ve been, fellas, I think we have a job to do. Up the hill. Stay low.”

Devon traded a glance with Morgan, but he was already on her heels.

The day, as they all could see, was only getting stranger. And Chuck was still out there somewhere.

-x-

A slippery piece of shit, no matter which way you paint it or dress it up, was still a piece of shit.

Knowing this, as the minutes passed to hours, Casey’s doubts only expanded each time he glared down the dirt road. “Where the fuck are you?” he said, checking for the hundredth time. No riders in sight.

“Goddamn Bryce Larkin.”

Sending Bryce might’ve been the wrong call. Hell, how could he not know? Nothing like a squirrely little monkey wrench to screw up everything.

Casey leaned against the doorframe and rubbed at his temple, his other hand tucked in his belt. The weathered brown duster he had worn into the slave shanty lay draped over a quilt on the broken down bed in the corner. His satchel was open, sitting on an entirely forgotten table that had served the unfortunate bastards living in the shack twenty years ago. It was a hollow, tiny space, four walls, sunlight poking through the holes in the roof and peeking between the cracks in the walls. The Latham slave shanty looked like it had been pretty much picked clean by scavengers long ago, not that there was anything worth taking in the first place.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Casey reminded himself why he had to be the one here, waiting. For starters, he had sworn to do everything to protect the kid. Even if it meant not being the man to waltz into what could be a sure hostage situation for both of them, that he would have to trust others -

Fuck that Bryce Larkin. Jesus, what a pretty boy.

Poisonous to think about him, so he had to push away the thought of Chuck giving his college roommate those brown-eyed looks and brilliant smiles – Casey’s smile. There was no lost respect for his young lover for falling for something that good-looking, however. Bullshit as it was.

But having to put his trust in that little prick? That made his skin crawl.

Casey forced himself to calmly check the Colt’s chamber – loaded, just like ten minutes ago – and asked himself again why he was standing there, nothing but flies buzzing and stale odors of things that had died in the shack to keep him company. Got as far as striding out the back doorway, taking Vic’s reins, just to prove he didn’t need anyone else.

Right before he found himself reevaluating the cost of riding in like a giant asshole to a dead end. A trap. The cost equaled Chuck’s life. Probably his own, too, but that was a lesser matter of concern.

“Where are they?” Casey leveled his gaze towards the opening in the pine slats- he couldn’t call it a ‘window’ since he guessed the slave shack never had glass there – and used the muzzle of his Colt to lift the corner of the ragged calico curtain. The limp rag was nothing more than a remnant that at one time kept some of the mosquitos and gnats away in the sweltering summer nights, but he only moved it a couple inches on the off chance someone was finally coming up the barren, half-grass covered road.

“Damnit.” Casey lowered the gun, shaking his head. All he had was a gut feeling that the road would be empty, and again he was right. “You do realize how many ways a man can die if you screw this up?” he mumbled. “Trust me, it’s a helluva lot, Bryce.”

The absent Bryce would have to be taught that lesson if he couldn’t keep to the script, if he let one more rotten thing happen Chuck. Casey had every intention to check the kid over, not with a fine-toothed comb but something more fun, and if there was even a scratch that Bryce could’ve prevented ....

Burning some time, Casey pulled back on the loading lever a few times. Testing it. The click of the hammer or the whir of the chamber were usually like music to him, but nothing seemed to have the calming effect.

This time, the only thing that would soothe him would be unloading the chamber at the speed of a hundred and fifty feet per second. Preferably into a skull or two, and he was very particular at the moment as to which ones.

“What is taking so damn long?” Casey grumbled. “Needed to stop and fix your fucking hair?”

What time was it? Automatically, he reached into the right front pocket of his jeans for the etched golden case of the pocket watch. He came up empty. Just like he had a thousand times in the past four months. He took some solace knowing at the time, somewhere, somehow, the kid still had it in his possession and would hopefully remember who was looking for him every time he touched the gold casing.

Well, until two nights ago. Not anymore. Liam would’ve undoubtedly searched the kid, and first things first, he had to have been sadistically thrilled to relieve him of an object so precious. Casey’s pocket watch. The knowledge that Liam was in possession of the kid, and therefore by proxy the pocket watch, was nearly an unbearable betrayal of his darkest secret. A symbol of a connection and a promise. Finding that? Every nerve ending of Liam’s body would light with fire because he knew now, without a single doubt in his mind, that Casey was in with the kid, and he’s in deep.

Instead of the pocket watch, Casey got his hand halfway out of his jeans before he realized his fingers were clutching a scrap of paper. Not the page he had torn, but something else. He already knew what it was, and knew he didn’t need to read it again, but there was nothing else to occupy his mind. Even though he had it memorized by now, every word carving a hole in his heart like a burnt pickaxe, he couldn’t help it.

Holding the scrap up to the light that filtered through the curtain, his blue eyes scanned the letter. The familiar handwriting, the perfect script. Every memory of that life with Chuck was traced in those lines.

‘But he’s nice, Johnnie. So like a fractious colt needing training, isn’t he? Is that what pulled you in? Or was it that hard, tight little body of his, all lean and pretty? I like it. Half frightened, half stubborn, but sweet as fresh apples, I bet, when he’s tamed.

Thanks for the gift.’

The paper was crumpled, covered with spidery white lines from being shoved deep in his pocket, fiddled with, discolored due to the sweat his hands. Cursing to himself, he jammed the note back into his jeans and wrapped a hand around the worn, wooden grip of the Colt until his knuckles turned white. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t growl out his rage.

As he started to move away from the window, Casey heard a noise and pulled to his full height abruptly, listening, but it was only followed by the call of a crow. No approaching horses, nothing else. Right then, he swore to God that if he thought Chuck was dead this would hurt less.

Indulging himself, he chased the thought away, instead rubbing his eyelids and picturing a different pair of eyes. The color of deep ale. So dark. Peaceful, turbulent, beautiful. Everything in his life was in that color.

Those brown eyes saw far too much of him. Taught him that he needed someone.

And now Larkin might fuck this up.

“If you don’t stick to the plan,” Casey said quietly, peering through the opening, “you won’t live to wipe your dainty ass tomorrow.”

Funny, he didn’t find comfort in the thought, not even in the weight of the gun in his hand. He couldn’t shake an inescapable, heavy knowledge that whatever came through that door might not be the last wrong thing to come out of the day.

-x-

“Move it, this way,” Bryce ordered, shoving Chuck towards yet another narrow clearing between the briars and vines. “You’re slowing down.”

“Ow! Hey, so sorry my feet are getting blood on the grass,” Chuck muttered. “Take it easy!”

“Do you need me to carry you?”

“Like hell you will.” Chuck’s immediate reaction was to pull away, just in case Bryce decided to try anyway.

“Then let’s go.” Bryce obviously wasn’t going to stop. He proved it by pushing the kid along, giving Chuck no other choice but to plunge ahead. Whatever energy he had left was nearly drained, and Chuck more fell than ran from the stand of trees at the edge of the woods, stumbling out onto a cow path. He swore the spindly, creeping plants had a mind of their own, as if they found humor in winding around his limbs and tripping him or leaving long bloody scratches over his stomach. “What the hell, Bryce? Must you push like that?”

“How do you know we’re not going to get company? Move.” Bryce skirted them around a tree and yanked on Chuck’s arm, trying to get him to pick up the pace. “Come on.”

Chuck had a couple of options, he thought with a scowl. Either run or be dragged, which didn’t seem much like options. Who knew Bryce had a grip that came close to rivaling Casey’s? A life or death situation could make a man find strength he didn’t know he had, but still. Holy hell.

Now if only he could find a deep well of power within himself. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. Honestly, Chuck could still blame it all on the lack of food and the bruises across his torso, courtesy of Liam and his pack of block-faced minions. The only good news was that the panicky sensation that came from knowing too much time had passed, and they had to be pursued by now, actually pushed away the feeling that his heart might shrivel and die if they had to keep running.

Wow. Now that was some digging deep to find the bright side.

“Next time, I pick the route back,” Chuck griped. Brushing a hand over his brow, it came away dripping. He could all but feel the burn against his bare skin, sizzling with perspiration and filling his nose with the scent of his own odor, not exactly roses. “How do we know this is the right way?”

“Just stop talking. Go!”

“Stop – whoa. Okay, sheesh.” When Chuck slanted a look over to glower at him, he was pissed to find out that Bryce still barely knew how to break out into a sweat. Of course. Even on the brink of death by lynching, he didn’t have the decency to not be perfect.

“Watch your feet.” Bryce swerved down a path, leading them along a sturdy wooden post and rail fence. Chuck followed, though not with the same finesse. Bryce had to know he was slowed down by his taller and somewhat clumsier liability, but it didn’t seem to take him off his game too much.

“I don’t even know why I would want to go with you,” Chuck remarked as he loped down one side of the fence a few steps behind him. “You tried to talk me into going back to your hotel with you two nights ago!”

“Yeah, about that. Did you ever think that I made that offer before I found out you were the boy-toy of an overly-muscular outlaw with a bad attitude? No, this way.”

“Hey – ow. I highly resent being referred to as a boy-toy – and did it ever occur to you that Casey’s attitude might have something to do with the fact he despises you?” Chuck bumbled over a rock and would’ve crashed into a tree had Bryce not yanked him back to his feet. Yeah, nice. In addition to a steel-trap grip, he also had the reflexes of a panther.

“Well, it’s a mutual admiration society, then,” Bryce muttered. He dodged around the sprawling low limbs of a spruce, the sharp needles scraping against Chuck’s side.

“Crap! Perfect,” Chuck said, seeing more streaks of blood. “Ah, easy. No shirt here. Remember?”

“Sorry.”

“Where are we going?”

“This way,” Bryce answered, rounding them back into the woods. East, the kid saw, since the sun was now on his shoulders. “Come on. I think the creek picks up this way. If we follow along it, I bet it dumps into the Mill Pond we passed in town.”

“We?”

“Long story. Can you go any faster? Oh, hey. Watch out.”

“Ouch, hey, careful!” Chuck made a sharp right, hurtling to the side of a tree where Bryce had kindly lugged him next. He supposed he was doing all right by dodging a briar bush, but ended up tripping over a fallen log. A yelp escaped when Bryce hauled him between clumps of ground juniper. Together, they ran down a slope, toward the creek, and if the kid had even an ounce of luck left in his body, ultimately to freedom –

“Wait – wait a second,” Chuck panted. He limped to a halt and immediately bent forward at the waist, hands on his knees, focusing every fiber of his being on not reliving any contents of his stomach that may be there. Gross.

Maybe it was a good thing his belly was as empty as the Mojave, because on top of everything else, he didn’t think he could handle throwing up in front of Bryce Larkin.

Those too-blue eyes flickered over him and back to the path straight ahead. It was a small comfort to see Bryce’s chest move slightly, revealing he wasn’t always a super human athlete. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You have to ask? “Just .... just hold still,” Chuck managed. “Not – not that way.”

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going through your head right now,” Bryce said evenly, “but you need to follow me.”

“If we follow the creek, it will take us closer into Beaufort, not north. I’m not going that way.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Straight into the heart of town? Like this?” Chuck, bent over with his hands still on his knees, had to tip his head to ensure the stink-eye wasn’t lost on Bryce. “Are you crazy? Didn’t we just talk about this?” When did Bryce have trouble remembering details? Certainly not in school. “Have you taken a good look at me? By all appearances I’ve spent the evening in a bar fight.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bryce tried to convince him. “Once you get cleaned up and a decent meal, this will all look different -”

“I’m going back home. Back to Devon’s house. It’s on the outside of the village. It’s safe. Casey will know to find me there.”

“No. Sorry, Chuck. Not happening.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Chuck glanced over at him and swallowed hard. His lungs burned a little less. “Do you think Liam and his band of thugs won’t recognize me? Geez, Bryce, have you forgotten who we’re dealing with? And my rotten luck?”

For a long moment, there was silence from his running partner. When Chuck looked over to read his face, he saw Bryce shake his head. Then he ran a hand through his hair and looked off to the side. “I’m afraid we’re not going that way, buddy. We’re heading back to the hotel.”

“What? The hotel?” Chuck stopped in shock. Bryce was trying to drag him out into the open? The very dangerous open. “No, I’m done following you, Bryce. Wait,” he said as Bryce opened his mouth, “before you argue with me, I’m done being dragged, punched, and toted around like a sack of flour. If you want to go back to the hotel, be my guest. And by that, I mean, please go.”

As he searched for a response, Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Well, this won’t be the first time something I did was for your best interest.”

“What are talking about?” Chuck’s heart immediately starting hammering for another reason entirely. Bryce’s look could only mean trouble.

“Let’s just keep this simple okay? I never wanted to hurt you, but I’m taking you back to the Beaulieu Grande tonight.”

Chuck blinked at him, the implication finding no logical place in his brain. “Bryce,” he said tersely. “Where’s Casey?”

“He’s ... there’s, waiting.” Bryce shrugged and gave him a sincere look, though his body language stiffened just a hair. “I’ll take you to him. Come on, Chuck. Now. I don’t want to force you, but I will if I have to.”

“You’ve already proven you’re familiar with the concept, haven’t you?” Chuck said, unable to believe what he was hearing and seeing. Some instinct had him creeping back a step until his heel bumped a log. “It’s not like you to have amnesia, Bryce. An hour ago you said Casey was hidden somewhere else. Now he’s in town? You’re lying.”

Bryce had the audacity to look hurt. “C’mere, Chuck. Hey, it’s me. Your old buddy, remember? Why would you say that?”

“Because your eyes are doing that ... thing they do.”

“What thing?”

“If I tell you,” Chuck said, his fists clenching, “you’ll try to cover it up.”

Bryce shot a look down at Chuck’s hands and crossed his arms. “Why do I get a feeling that you’re about to make this difficult?”

“Me? Difficult?” Indignation made Chuck sputter. “What are you really doing here, Bryce?”

“Don’t,” Bryce warned. Now that he saw Chuck backing away, the friendly, charming personality had begun to dissolve. All that was left was an anxious edge. “I just need you to follow me.”

“You – you don’t have any intention of taking me to him.” Chuck’s aggravation deepened to a scowl. “So I hate to break up all the fun we’re having, but I’m going this way.”

“No, you’re not.”

Chuck squinted at his friend, but he wasn’t joking. He actually meant it. “Here’s the thing, Bryce. I suddenly feel a hell of a lot less lost. And a hell of a lot sorrier for letting myself get dragged around by someone I should’ve learned to never trust.”

“Easy, Chuck.” Bryce stepped closer, hands out to the side. “Let’s be friends again.”

“What is the part you don’t understand? I already know you’re not telling me something –”

“It’s not personal, okay?” Bryce’s face set adamantly, his eyes remained locked on Chuck. “It just has to happen. That’s all. We had a deal.”

“A deal?” Chuck’s eyebrows went lower over his eyes as he tried to puzzle out what Bryce could be referencing. “What are you talking about? What’s not personal?”

Bryce eyed him for nearly a full ten seconds before the smallest frown cracked through. “I’m taking you back to your father.”

“Wh-what?!”

Bryce nodded at him, head to toe, emphatic now. “Quit trying to back away from me and give me your arm already. Let’s go.”

“He put you up to this?!” Chuck outright gaped, a coat of ice working its way down his limbs. Bryce was tangled up with his father. Chuck’s father was back at the hotel, waiting for a special delivery. The human holding the Cipher.

Bryce gave up on waiting and took a step towards him. What the hell was he going to do? Did he really think he was doing Chuck a favor? Returning him back to his life? He needed stop Bryce. He needed to get away –

Chuck winced as Bryce took another step. “You can’t do this, Chuck. You’re not fine. You’re starving and you’re exhausted. We can help you, okay? Let’s go.”

“God, I was an idiot, but at least I’m not pathetic,” Chuck said. There was no possible way he was going with him anywhere. He wasn’t Bryce Larkin, who could try to seduce someone one minute and drag him to his worst nightmare the next. “Go to hell, Bryce.”

By the time it was out there, the kid turned, braced himself, and took off, not even sparing Bryce another look. As he ran, he stumbled over a short stump, bumped his shoulder against a tree, grunting at the pain. It was a panicked flight of prey, but that was what he had become. He had to get away.

For his own sake, for his life, for Casey.

Too bad the universe had other ideas. Why he even dreamed he could get a leg up on Bryce in his current condition? He could feel in minute, precise detail just how fast his heart was racing.

And he heard, or maybe he sensed, the sound of Bryce behind him, coming up fast. It was like touching a hot poker and knowing in a millisecond the pain would shoot through his hand.

He got ten steps before he felt the weight of Bryce Larkin barreling into him from behind.

They both dropped like rocks, Bryce on top of Chuck’s back.

Chuck’s breath exploded out of him at the contact of bruised and scraped skin smacking into the hard-packed dirt and small pebbles that dug into his stomach. He took a huge gulp of air, ready to let out a yelp of pain –

Bryce leaned over him and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Do you really think that’s a smart move? You’ll bring them right to us!”

It took every last bit of muscle Chuck had to try and buck Bryce off him, but he could only lift up a few inches before Bryce squirmed over him and slammed him back down. He swallowed the scream. His body throbbed. It felt as though somebody had taken a strand of barbed wire and ran it up and down his chest. Chuck gritted his teeth and slowly forced the pain and fear to retreat, crawling, until his mind could function again.

Traitor. His ex-best friend was a damn traitor. He had to get away.

“Not going to cooperate, are you?” Bryce asked, pressing down on his shoulder. “I have to move my hand for a second, so ... I’m sorry about this.”

“You’re not sorry yet!” Before Chuck could scream out the depth of the grave Casey would leave Bryce’s body in for this little stunt, Bryce shoved him face first into the dirt. Since that wasn’t quite enough to completely immobilize him, he then twisted one arm behind Chuck’s back while pressing a knee into his spine.

Dang, that hurt. More than just a little.

“Damn you,” Chuck mumbled into the ground, flinching. “Can’t I just have one day without someone trying to screw up my life?”

“Sorry, buddy.” Bryce sounded barely winded as he clamped down his knees tighter around Chuck’s middle. Chuck heard a ripping sound behind his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bryce tear away a strip of the suede vest he wore, right down the front. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“Yeah, sure. I believe you.” Chuck scowled and tried to turn his head. “What are you doing?”

“I was honest about what I said earlier, though, Chuck,” Bryce explained, ignoring the question. “About getting your life back? But the part you didn’t get was that I meant the life with your family – your father. Come on, we both know you don’t belong here. Especially not with a dirty outlaw. You’re Charles Adams, not Bukowski or whatever you call yourself.”

“Thanks for looking out for me! And it’s Bartowski, you jerk!” Chuck grunted when Bryce increased the pressure on his back, then yanked his wrists together behind him. The reason Bryce had torn the strip of cloth became crystal and horrifyingly clear. He was really going to do this. All at once, the band of fabric dug into his wrists and tightened. “Ow! Geez, Bryce!”

“I told you I didn’t want it to be this way, Chuck,” Bryce said, apparently putting some muscle into tying off the knot. “Trust me when I say I know what’s best for you.”

“Ouch, damnit.” Chuck tugged at his wrists, wriggling and pulling, but no dice. Now he couldn’t move his arms at all. “I wish I could clean out my ears right now, because you did not just say to trust you!”

“I have your best interests at heart.” Bryce tested the knot and had the nerve to then ruffle Chuck’s hair in back before he stood up. “C’mon. Time for the reunion.”

“This makes no sense, Bryce. I only have one question. How much is my dad paying you?”

Something grabbed at the waistband of his jeans. Chuck yelped as he was hauled straight up to his feet with his back against a tree. Bryce stuck his face close to Chuck’s, impatience and annoyance all plain across his features. “Listen to me carefully, Chuck because I don’t want to have to explain this more than once. Your father wants you to come back home. He was the one who approached me when he found out you were in North Carolina. Getting here from Atlanta gave me a head start in finding you. Think of it as rescuing you.”

“Stop doing me favors – ow!”

“Quiet,” Bryce hissed, leaning into him. “Okay, so fine. Maybe I did both of us a favor. By the time I finally found you and met up with your dad, it was just a matter of making an offer.” His eyes narrowed at Chuck as he looked him up and down. “It was a good offer, too. He must really want you back.”

“I knew it,” Chuck said, feeling every word punch through him. “I knew you weren’t here for the misdirected good of my family or me. You really haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m not a bad guy.” Bryce wrapped a hand around Chuck’s bicep, obviously preparing to get back to the business of kidnapping him from his kidnappes. “So what if I happen to make a few bucks off of it along the way?”

Still struggling, Chuck kicked out at him. “That’s your logic?! A win-win all around, I guess! Oh, wait. Except for me!”

“I know you want to kill me,” Bryce said mildly. “But eventually you’ll see it was for the best.”

“Don’t take it personally, but I think my boyfriend is going to kill you instead.”

Bryce rolled his eyes. “Let’s go. Someday you’ll thank me, okay?”

Though Bryce’s grip was firm, Chuck pulled back and stood his ground. He gave one more last ditch effort to worm his wrists free from behind his back, but decided he would just have to do this without the use of his hands. “You’re right about that, Bryce,” he said, glowering at the other man. “In fact, I’m going to thank you right now.”

“Yeah? How –” was all Bryce got out before Chuck’s knee nailed him a few inches from his balls. “Oof.”

Chuck never saw Bryce go down on one knee, cringe, or clamp a hand over his nuts. He could only picture such a pleasant sight. The kid was already bolting away, struggling to stay on his feet as the darted around two trees and hopped over a log. Okay, this would be easier if he could get his hands free, but there was no stopping to try and work the bindings.

Chuck was pretty sure the crank to the ball sack would only have Bryce rasping for thirty seconds or so, which meant all he could do was pray that it was enough time. He ran hard, his bare feet sliding through a patch of grass as he listened for footsteps behind him. A few more bushes to crash through and he could somehow get enough of a running start to leap over the fence –

“Holy sh -”

Chuck would never recall exactly what happened next, save for one moment he was sprinting and diving and so damn close to being free, and the next there was a jerk and the air left his lungs again. A band of steel wrapped around his waist, wrenching him in reverse. The kid had one wild second to look off to the side into a pale, sneering face, eyes the color of coal. One second to realize, so this is what it feels like to have everything go wrong.

Then, of course, he was too busy being lifted off the ground and pulled into a wall of muscle that rivaled the iron firmness of Casey’s to worry too much about running.

“You’re hurting me!” Chuck yelled, his voice hoarse. “You can’t do this!” His head moved to the side as he struggled. He nearly wet himself when he registered who had his thick arms latched around him, who had picked him up a good foot from the earth and let us bare feet dangle helplessly, before the air left him.

Panic made him suck in an instinctual gasp, and he wriggled and twisted and tried to hit him with his trapped fists. The enormous thug of a man was having none of that, however. He responded by tightening his hold around Chuck’s waist, crushing the kid’s arms behind his back.

“Ow! Please stop!” Chuck yelped. He turned in the same direction the man pulled him, dug one foot into the ground, and tried to half-tackle the giant. It was sloppy and it wrenched his ribs like nothing else, but it caught the man unawares. They tumbled to the ground. The man’s grip loosened enough for Chuck to pull his shoulder free.

He lurched up, scrabbling on the grass in a brief yet furious wrestling mach. Somehow he ended up on his knees even as he tried to use his foot to hold the other man down. “Let me – go! Stop – doing -”

The man freed his legs and an arm. The punch caught Chuck at the bottom of his right cheek and sent him flying back. His world flickered and danced with white sparks. It made Bryce’s hold on him a few minutes ago feel like the silk of a spider web. He hollered out for anyone who might be within earshot. That earned him another blow to the jaw. It was like getting hit in the face with a brick, driving a divot straight to his brain.

He lay on the ground, arms still pinned, positive he was half dead. When a fist grabbed him by the hair and lifted him to a sitting position, Chuck didn’t fight back. He couldn’t.

“There you go, boyo,” Liam murmured darkly in his ear. Hot breath washed over Chuck’s neck, making his skin crawl. “That’s it ... you know you can’t beat me.”

The kid already regretted not kicking Bryce harder for this stunt. The air around him felt hot and lay heavily against the back of his throat. All at once he was swamped with the scent of his captor’s cigarettes mingled with the pungent smell of gunpowder.

“Going to be good for me now, aren’t you?” Liam asked, leaning forward to get in his face. “Tell me now, sunshine. Did you miss me?”

Before Chuck could tell him to go fuck himself, another intruder called out through the thicket.

“Liam!” Rudy’s voice, not too far. “The other n’ is heading east along the crick! Need me to take his skull off for ya?”

“No, let him go,” Liam said. His hands tightened around Chuck’s bare waist. Then his fingers moved, a caress to the kid’s sternum with his knuckles before Liam chuckled in his ear, “We have what we need now. That little idiot out there actually did us a favor.”

“A favor?” Rudy, stomping into view, lowered his rifle and titled his head at his boss, confusion painting over the ugliness. It was some small consolation to Chuck that the thug looked dirty and worn out from the chase. “He almost let him get away! Now he’s gonna go runnin’ into town and tellin’ those folks where we are.”

“Yes, precisely,” Liam said. “Have you forgotten that the man who had the job of drawing John Casey to the beehive is now lying face down in the dirt in front of the house? Right where we left him a few hours ago.”

Oh, God. They killed another man. Chuck instinctively tried to elbow his way free until the grip moved to his neck. Abruptly, the kid stopped. “Please ....” he managed to gasp.

“Well ... so?” Rudy asked Liam, completely ignoring Chuck.

Using the hold on his neck, Liam pulled Chuck to his feet. His arms guided the kid tighter into his body, holding him close, making Chuck sickeningly aware of the touch. Knowing he was looking for a reaction, an intake of breath or a renewed struggle, Chuck clenched his hands behind his back and bit down on his bottom lip. It was sexual, it made him sick, but he wasn’t going to give it away.

“So now we have a new go-fer to take care of that for us,” Liam explained in a low voice. “He’ll bring our old friend right back to us, just as we planned it before the pretty one out there made a mistake.”

“I guess yer right.” Rudy slanted his eyes at Chuck and grinned, showing off a mouthful of brown teeth. “You ain’t givin’ up, are you? Not as fun when you don’t show a little spirit, boy.”

“Oh, he’ll show spirit,” Liam said, chuckling. Chuck could feel the pressure of his palm, his fingers massaging his waist as he attempted to flex his body away from the touch. “Such pretty brown eyes ... gentle. But I bet it will just take the proper motivation, won’t it, boyo? Mm. I know you’ll make it worth my while. Johnnie’s too.”

“It’ll never happen,” Chuck bit out at him.

“Sure it will,” Liam said bluntly. The larger man then pressed his face into the curve of Chuck’s neck, licked him, whispered, “Won’t want him to miss it, either, do we? Let’s go, sweet cheeks. You and I still have a date to keep.”

x- End Chapter Ten Where the Road Ends-x-


	11. Chapter Eleven

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Eleven

-x-

“This wasn’t my idea,” Chuck said. “And it’s not like this was my fault. He kidnapped me. Boy, that makes you and Bryce part of some kind of weird brethren, doesn’t it? What, is there a club I’m not aware of? Until I get kidnapped, of course, because that would be part of the membership requirements or something. Can’t you guys have a secret handshake instead? Oh, and while we’re at it, I’m getting a little tired of being hauled around by you!”

“Walk,” the man ordered.

Chuck tried to dig his heels in, but that smart move only made him stumble. “Slow down.”

“Are you this clumsy on purpose?” Liam asked, shoving him harder.

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact I seem to have had my boots stolen – two days ago – but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Come along.” The larger man gave him another yank. His horse was a good fifty yards away, reined to a tree in a small clearing in a dense part of the forest. Chuck only knew it was a long way to be dragged by the waistband of his jeans. More precisely, whatever was left of them after being sliced open earlier in the bedroom by the man doing the dragging, and then by the flight that ended too abruptly with his capture. Again!

Where the hell had Rudy and Liam come from?!

“It would help if I could walk on my own –”

“Does the rough treatment bother you, brown eyes?” Liam chuckled and tossed a look past his shoulder at the kid. The bastard tightened his hand on Chuck’s pants, moving deeper under the waist of his jeans. From the touch of bare skin to bare skin, it was undeniable that one objective was to further humiliate him. “Don’t be offended that I plan on testing that theory.”

“And I plan on watching my partner kick your ass - ow.” When Chuck’s foot caught on a rock, there was nothing to stop him from falling flat on his face except the sharp tug on his jeans. “Hey, watch it,” he grumbled at Liam’s back. “I think you tore something.”

“Then walk, boy.”

“You could ease up a little,” Chuck argued, scowling. He had to jog behind him, as Liam didn’t really give him a choice in whether to follow or not. And at some point, the kid wanted nothing more than to have a chance to thank his ex-friend for having the foresight to tie Chuck’s hands behind his back right before he was snatched again. Yeah, why not make it convenient for the next captor? Save some rope and all.

God, he hated Bryce Larkin.

“Get a move on,” Rudy snapped from behind him, pushing the skinnier man to ensure he obeyed. “Still say I shoulda shot that pretty boy, instead of lettin’ him hightail into the woods.”

“I can’t believe we agree on something,” Chuck said under his breath.

“Shut yer trap.” A rifle slammed into his back. Damn, but Rudy was understandably pissed about the goose chase into the woods this afternoon. He seemed to want to take out his frustration on Chuck’s already banged-up body. “Keep walkin’.”

“I told you, he’ll prove to be useful,” Liam said. In light of the kid’s comment, he turned around briefly, his gaze narrowing in curiosity at Chuck. “You want him dead, too? Ah, do I sense a lover’s quarrel?”

Chuck gritted his teeth. “He wasn’t my lover.”

“Your blush says otherwise, boyo.” Liam smiled and turned to guide him roughly around a fallen log. “Interesting, though, that you didn’t want to go with him willingly. Mind telling me what that was about?”

“I try not to follow giant assholes. Unless I’m forced.”

“Back to being stubborn, I see. I’ll find out soon enough tonight.”

“You hear that mouth on him, boss?” Rudy growled. The butt of the rifle slammed into Chuck’s shoulder, and in spite of knowing what was coming, it took every ounce of energy not to yelp. “Let him get away with that?”

Chuck careened into Liam’s broad back, making Liam spin around to steady him, putting his face in his. “Patience, boy,” he said, laying a hand on the kid’s bare midriff. “You don’t want to give me the wrong impression. Besides, there’ll be enough time for that later on.”

“I’m not your boy,” Chuck announced, and glared at him.

“My mistake.” Liam inclined his head and winked. “John Casey’s boy.”

Chuck glowered a moment longer but said nothing. Probably best not to bait the man holding onto him with one hand and a gun in the other.

Rudy laughed. The horses in the clearing stomped and whinnied at the racket. Once they reached the pair of waiting mounts, heads swinging and black eyes filled with alertness, Liam pulled up short at the side of the larger one. He gave Chuck a small shove. “Stay. No more games,” he said, untying the reins from the tree.

“Now what?” Rudy asked.

Liam looked over at Chuck and sighed. “It looks like we’ll have a reprieve. He won’t come tonight.”

“He? Wait. Who?” Chuck blinked, unable to believe his ears. “Casey?”

Rudy stepped in front of him and gave him an elbow to the gut. Chuck endured it with a wince, since he didn’t have a choice in that matter, either. “You. Shut up,” the grubby smaller man ordered before he focused on Liam. “Who won’t come tonight?”

Liam climbed up on the horse. Despite the fury he may have felt after the little vanishing act through the woods, he gave away nothing in his rigid expression or posture. “I suspect the pretty one just ruined Johnnie’s plan. It’s obvious that one’s job was to draw me out of the pack. He was to accompany me, I’m certain, straight to our former business partner’s own trap.”

“How do you know?” Rudy asked.

“Because that’s what I taught him to do.” Liam scoffed. “He learned everything from me, and now he’ll try to use it against me. Too bad, really. For him.”

“Why?” Rudy demanded.

“Yeah, why?” There was no gun to Chuck’s head at the moment, so why not ask?

“Not only did he get a taste of attachment, he got greedy,” Liam answered, giving Chuck a dismissive glance. “Avarice is usually a quality I find quite admirable. But now ... Johnnie will have to reassess his situation. Will he really be willing to walk into an ambush? No, I believe he’s too smart for that.”

“So?” Rudy rubbed a hand over his peppered-grey stubble. “We sit back and wait? Won’t he find out where we are?”

The leather saddle creaked as Liam bent forward to look Chuck over, from his dirty bare feet to his disheveled hair. “We all know he’s not going to do anything that will hurt the odds of getting his boy out alive.”

Well, Chuck, still standing next to the horse with his wrists tied, had no desire to wait around and find out what that strategy would be. By the time Rudy took the reins of his own horse, the kid backed up a step. “Um, sounds like a rip-snorting time, guys, really, but you can count me out.”

“Stay put, kid. I can see precisely what you’re trying to do. No more tricks. This has been quite enough running for one day. I’d hate to have to end the evening by teaching you a lesson in manners.” Liam nodded at Rudy. “Grab the little shit and pass him to me before we end up on another merry chase.”

“I’m not riding with you,” Chuck insisted. When Rudy latched on to his arm, the kid let him have it with a good kick to the shin. “I can walk, but gee, thanks anyway – hey! Ow, ow, ow!”

“Git over here, idiot.” Rudy’s grip tightened on Chuck’s arm. All the foot dragging in the world didn’t stop him from hauling the kid over to the side of Liam’s horse. “Here. Take your little prize before I’m tempted to shoot that one, too,” Rudy snarled, passing him off with a hard shove. “Nothing but a skinny pain in the ass. Look where they led us. Spent half a day trailing those two rabbits.”

By the time Chuck could angle around to spit at him, the powerful grip on his bicep had lifted him off the ground. “Everyone will get what’s coming to them,” Liam assured Rudy. Without so much as a grunt, he threw Chuck into the saddle in front of him. It was disconcerting, how easy he had manhandled him, but nothing compared to the abrupt and sickening feeling of his naked back being pressed into Liam’s chest. “There you are, sweet cheeks. Comfortable?”

The instant Liam had his prisoner on the horse, one of his arms slid around Chuck’s waist and pulled him tighter to his big body. The kid straightened and felt his heart rate kick up. He took a breath, attempting to regain his last grasp at composure. “I think I’d be more comfortable if that limb fell and knocked your ass off of -”

“Remember what the gag felt like, kid?” Liam asked, lips brushing the edge of his ear. “Made it hard to breathe, didn’t it?”

Chuck swallowed and looked down at the horse’s neck, trying to ignore the warning squeeze of a hand on his nape.

“When do we get our money?” Rudy badgered. The question came as the horses broke into a trot. Thumping hooves beat out the message: no way to escape now. Chuck would be hauled back to the decrepit plantation house, sutffed into that suffocating little bedroom.

“All in due time,” Liam said quietly, splaying a hand on the kid’s flat belly. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

Chuck bit his lip and stared straight ahead. Trees and more trees.

No touching; he can’t do that. Please God, just let him vanish.

The filthy little man took up his position behind Liam’s horse. “And when does John Casey get what’s coming to him?”

“Soon. Very soon,” Liam continued in his unruffled tone. He nudged the horse in the ribs, and when the animal predictably jolted, he used it as a chance to clutch the kid drawing his arm tightly around his chest. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ve got a good hold on you.”

“You can let go anytime.”

“And miss out on all the fun? Mm. You like that?”

“Move your hand,” Chuck muttered, knowing he wouldn’t. This was surreal. Jesus, what did he want from him? Liam was punishing him somehow, but not with punches. With his intimate gropes and pinches. And with each one, Chuck recoiled. He’d rather get knocked out cold.

“How can you be so sure?” Rudy asked, still digging for information. “What if he just decides the kid ain’t worth it?”

“Let me worry about our partner. At the moment, your job is to get rid of the man’s body in the front yard. Take him out to the woods for all I care, let the wolves pick his bones clean. Just make sure the others are ready.” Liam glanced to the side, eyes lingering over the forest. “I expect our guest to show his face early tomorrow.”

“What about the punk? Need me to watch him?”

“No,” Liam said. “He’ll be ... my problem tonight.”

Chuck heard the insinuation, like the safety clicking off a gun. What the man implied was worse. Something evil and festering. Chuck’s heart went beyond hammering. It was now beating so hard his breath caught, his stomach clenched in a knot. There was nothing left in his stomach to expel, but by god if that man tried ....

“Nervous, sweet cheeks?” Liam whispered against the curls over his ear. “I feel it ... everywhere. Every muscle in your body ... going tight.”

“You smell like dead bear,” Chuck faltered, refusing to look at him. “I – I’m trying to hold my breath.”

Liam laughed. “You crossed a line today, boy.” The hand stayed planted at his waist, though his thumb began to scrub in a contemplative manner over the line of his hip bone. “How should I punish you?”

Chuck considered telling him off, but he already had bruises on his cheek that throbbed with every heavy step of hooves.

“No ideas? Ah, I have the perfect thing, then.” Liam’s thighs pressed the kid’s upper legs. He strained them forward, increasing the friction in a way that had Chuck fighting not to scream or react. Don’t give him what he wants. “You’ll join me for dinner tonight. That will give us some time to get to know each other better.”

“I’d rather starve,” Chuck said, “but thanks anyway.”

“You’re quite thin.” With Chuck’s hands out of the way, Liam had free rein to do whatever he wanted. Testing him, he pinched his ribcage until the kid squirmed. “You’re going to need your energy tomorrow night. We have big plans, don’t we? So you will join me for dinner tonight.”

If only he could get his hands free. Chuck closed his eyes and tugged, but his wrists were shoved up against the larger man’s lower abdomen, and that move only earned him a lewd chuckle and then a cuff to the side of the head.

“Now’s not the time, cailin,” Liam told him, snaking his hand around and up his chest, “but I do like that you have a little fight left in you.”

-x-

“Did Casey mention what we should do if Bryce doesn’t get here?” Morgan asked, looking down the hill. His hand dropped to the gun peeking out of his waistband whether he realized it or not. “I mean, what if he’s not here by the time it’s dark? Then what?”

“He didn’t say, man. But I don’t think he knew it would take this long.” The doctor squinted between the opening of the pine tree branches, up the road to the east and back to the west. The strange woman, Sabine was her name, had ordered them to stay put while she ducked up the crest of the hill to get a better view.

So now what? With the balancing act between running out of daylight, concern for not only Chuck’s safety but now Bryce’s, any sort of comfort that they had a companion who seemed willing and able to shoot if she needed to didn’t mean much anymore. Did Bryce get taken as well? Was Liam only playing a tug-of-war with Chuck, or more like a mouse dangling him in front of the big angry cat?

And where the hell is Bryce Larkin?

Thinking exactly as Morgan was, Devon wondered how closely they should stick to the original plan if Bryce didn’t return in the next hour, but he hadn’t voiced his concern.

Morgan, on the other hand, had no problem voicing it for both of them.

“Man, he should’ve been here by now,” the little guy said for the tenth time. “How much more daylight do you think we have? Oh, and uh, did you remember to pack any sandwiches? Even just cheese and butter on wheat bread would be fine. I’m not sure meat would’ve stayed fresh all this time. Roast beef gets a little, I don’t know, gamey and slippery in the heat, don’t you think?”

“You’re talking about sandwiches?” Devon slanted a look at him. “How can you even think about eating at a time like this, bro?”

“Don’t you get hungry during a stake-out?”

“Have you ever been on a stake-out before?”

Morgan thought about it and moved a shoulder. “Well, no, this is my first. But now I know I need to pack a little light snack for the next one, right?”

Devon started to reply, thought better of it, and twitched a branch in order to peek through the needles one more time. “Let’s hope this is the last one.”

Morgan didn’t seem to have a reply for that. Small favors, Devon thought, turning away to concentrate on his job of keeping watch for any trouble Bryce may have found. Anything to keep his mind off of Chuck. Injuries he may have or ... definitely not anything else.

“Water?” Morgan asked, holding out the tin canteen.

“Sure. Thanks.” Devon took a swig from it and turned his face towards the grassy, two-track road and the last remnants of sunlight streaking the sky to the west, wondering again how much time they had before they should either meet up with Casey or head back into town. The thoroughfare was still empty in both directions, just like every other time in the past hour. Farmers rarely traveled as far as the desolate Latham plantation, and never this late in the evening.

“Ow.” Something fell at Morgan’s feet.

“What is it, bro?”

“I – um, dropped my knife. Accidently grabbed it by the blade.”

“Do you need a bandage?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Morgan said, starting to wave him off until he realized he was clutching his own hand. He made an awkward lifting motion instead. “Ouch. It’s – ah – just a flesh wound.”

“Sabine said you weren’t going to need your knife, remember?”

When Devon mentioned their mysterious new partner, Morgan’s eyes darted up the hill where she had headed a while ago. “Awfully quiet up there, isn’t it?”

“Well, what did you expect? She’s checking out the area.” Devon passed the canteen back to him. “Don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we?”

“Right, right.” The smaller man nodded, but the discomfort on his face was about as inconspicuous as a saloon sign over a door in a starchy part of town. It wasn’t just his sliced hand. “I – I still don’t think I can use the gun. Besides, something doesn’t feel right, doc. Where are they?”

“You don’t need to use it,” Sabine answered, making the men look over. The woman breezed in through an opening between the pine trees. “And if you fermer ta bouche, you’ll see that there are two riders coming from the west.”

“There are?” both men blurted and then exchanged a guilty glance.

“Sorry, I was – ah – distracted,” Morgan said, trying not to bleed on his vest.

“Keep your head down,” Sabine said. “And no blood on the borrowed gun.”

Devon’s brows inched up at her. Amazing how much the brunette reminded him of her much larger, grunting pal. Maybe they shared a kindred, scary spirt of sorts.

“Wait.” Morgan’s head shot up. “Why will I not have to use my gun?”

Sabine pulled on the leather strap to take her rifle off her back. “Because that’s why I’m here.”

“Whoa.” Devon stared at the barrel, eyes traveling from the tip of the muzzle to finally reaching her face. Holding the rifle steady, the woman was lining up the notch of the sight to the target. “You really are Casey’s bosom buddy, aren’t you?”

“You. The handsome one,” she said. “Get down with your friend.”

“But what if it’s Bryce and Liam?” Morgan whispered urgently. “Then what?”

“Let’s hope for their sake it is,” Sabine answered quietly. “Now, let’s play a new game called shut the hell up until they pass, hm, boys?” She lifted a brow without moving the rifle from the tip of her nose, and the small grin that curled her lip made Devon do a double take. “Rule number one: never give away your position until you have to.”

“What’s rule two?” Morgan asked.

“When the time comes to give up your position, you better shoot straight and hope to hell they don’t.”

Morgan visibly swallowed and glanced towards the road. “I’ll ... I’ll try to remember that.”

“Fermer. Hooves.” Tilting her head towards the clopping sound, Sabine dropped her voice, barely audible. “They’re coming. Get down.”

“You heard her.” Devon moistened his lips and held onto the grip of his pistol, even though it stayed within his holster. This was at least the tenth time in the past two days he had felt like he was in a bad dream. Now that he thought about it, it all started when Bryce came to his door, looking for Chuck.

“Can you make them out yet?” Morgan asked.

“That’s him,” Devon said softly, tensing as he looked over at Sabine. “That’s Bryce riding the lead horse.”

“Do you recognize the other man?” Sabine wanted to know, not lifting eyes from the length of the barrel and beyond.

The doctor peered through the branches. The two riders were a good forty yards away. Iffy at best to take in every detail. From what he could distinguish, the man in a black bowler hat and grey jacket was purposely letting Bryce lead him. After another deep squint at them, Devon shook his head. “Not from what I can tell. I don’t recognize the horse, either.” He watched as the man turned his head to say something to Bryce. The waning light caught more than his profile that time. “No. He doesn’t seem to be anyone from town I would know.”

“Good.”

Morgan swiveled around to her. “Have you ever met Casey’s boss?”

“No.” Those dark eyes of hers narrowed. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the Chairman of Black Rock. Isn’t he the nobbish one?” she observed, studying the man. “Looks like a pompous ass.”

“Um, which one?” When Morgan realized his blunder, he covered it by clearing his throat. “I only meant –”

“- that Chuck’s friend over there makes them quite the matching pair?”

Morgan chuckled, embarrassed, and waved that away. “To be fair, what’s under a man’s clothes is more important than his – oh. Wait. Uh, what I mean was -”

“Quiet,” Sabine hissed. “Stay down.”

“Hang on. You’re not going to shoot Bryce, are you?” Devon asked, low. “Casey didn’t say anything about that.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “I’m only guaranteeing that piece of human excrement behind him,” and she shifted the barrel a few inches to zero in on Casey’s boss, “doesn’t have a few friends hoping to join the party.”

“What ... what if he does?” Morgan piped up over her shoulder.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Devon turned away from the riders on the road long enough to read her composure. Her young face was intent, one eye a slit pointed at the target. Damn, Casey. Putting that woman in the middle of nowhere with them was not a mistake. No doubt, she would pull the trigger if she had to.

The two riders crossed in front of them without even looking up the hill at the stand of pine trees or noticing the slender barrel of her rifle barely protruding between two branches. The quasi-spies remained quiet – a feat for the little guy, Devon figured - until the rhythmic trot died out in the distance.

“Now what?” Morgan wiped a sleeve over his forehead. Perspiration had sprung up all over. Devon guessed if he looked in a mirror, his face would’ve fared no better. “How long do we wait here?”

“We’ll have our answer in no more than twenty minutes, I suspect.”

“Twenty ... minutes?”

Sabine lowered the gun and peered in the direction the men had come from. “They won’t risk losing Liam by staying back too far. If we don’t see a sign of anyone trailing, we follow them back to John.”

“And if we do?” Devon asked. “You know, see someone?”

Standing here in the semi-dark shadow of the trees with her not two feet away, he saw her adjust the grip on her rifle. “That’s where things get a little touchy. Cover your eyes, if you must.”

Devon’s eyebrows reared up at the response. “Let’s hope they’re alone.”

“Fine, fine.” Morgan heaved a breath and put his hand on his holster. “Let’s do this.”

Sabine didn’t smile. “You do nothing but wait,” she said. The woman angled around to search up the hill, just in case any riders who may be following stayed off the road. “Then we go.”

Please. Don’t let them come, Devon thought as he took a place next to Morgan. Whoever they may be.

They waited, even Morgan totally out of words. For five, ten minutes, all Devon saw was the empty road, heard nothing but his companions breathing or an occasional shuffle from the little guy. If the past day was long, twenty minutes turned out to be eternity.

In the end, it was all for nothing. Nobody came up from behind.

“It’s time,” Sabine said. After sitting so quietly, suddenly she rose and slung her rifle over her back. The stilted nod gave away her degree of uneasiness. Anxiousness glistened in those dark eyes. “Back to the horses.”

“Sabine, wait.” Devon took her arm. Grabbing a woman with a loaded rifle may not be smart, but he needed her attention. “You’re worried. Something’s not right.”

“Smart boy,” was all she said. While the two men silently debated which would press for details, Sabine ended it by turning her back and striding up the hill. “Move. Let’s go.”

“Listen, I thought we were partners,” Morgan said. He had to break into a trot to keep up with her. “We’re a team right? I think by right that means we need to know what’s going on.”

“Johnnie’s told me enough about that skunk,” Sabine said, not breaking stride. “He won’t just walk into a trap. That means something’s up. Now please, either follow me, or go back into town.”

“No way,” Devon said, and Morgan nodded. “We’re in this together.”

“Then let’s get back to the shanty. Mainenant.”

Devon and Morgan exchanged a look and picked up the pace. Normally the warning edge would make him reconsider his actions. They could be walking into a trap. Hell, Casey could be sitting duck. And what would that mean for Chuck?

Not this time. Devon picked up after her until he caught up. If they were lucky, they’d get out of here without running into any more trouble.

The tiny voice in his head got louder. Something told him there was zero possibility of that happening.

-x-

The Latham slave shanty was only large enough to pace ten steps in any direction. Dank and smelly, Casey’s surroundings were a broken table by the fireplace and a flea infested corn husk mattress along the back wall. Even the scavengers and unscrupulous carpetbaggers had picked the shack clean long ago.

Nothing stood in the way between the two openings on either side of the doorway, at least, giving him free and clear space to walk back and forth from window to window. Which he did a hell of a lot in the last two hours.

Casey knew going in that this would be the worst part – well, lining up against all the shitty scenarios that could hit them, it was one of them. The waiting. He had no use for patience. Almost less use for weepy, weak-ass prayers, since no one seemed particularly interested in hearing him out anyway. So he hadn’t resorted to that crazy hoo-hah yet, but if there was ever a time that needed the kind of divine intervention his mother used to speak about before she died –

Casey crossed over to the window opening on the right and looked down the road. Instantly, a distant clomping noise made every muscle stiffen. No one was in sight yet. Tugging his Colt 45 out of the holster, he braced one upper arm against the window frame, adjusted his grip, and set his stance. His finger tightened as he slid it onto the trigger. The waiting game just became miles more interesting, though maybe not for the riders coming up the road.

“About time you got here,” Casey uttered, squinting down the barrel’s sight. “Took the scenic route, Larkin?” Though he hated to recognize it, the thought of meeting up with his boss face to face after all these months made a new layer of sweat pop out over the back of his neck.

It took a minute or two for the riders to get within distance to distinguish their identities. An unflinching statue, Casey kept his gun level and his arm steady, watching as the two horses turned off the road and took the path that would lead to the shanty.

The first pass at recognition, he simply chocked it up to the fact he was flat-out exhausted and maybe not seeing things right. Lifting his shoulder, Casey wiped the sweat out of his eyes and refocused again.

The view didn’t change. “Goddamn it.” He felt tension ricochet up his arm and into his hand. It took everything not to pull the trigger right now and just end the lead rider.

Well, if it hadn’t been unequivocal before now, this sealed it. The punk had just signed his death warrant.

As much as Casey wanted to serve those papers to the undertaker at this moment, he managed to withhold by taking his finger off the trigger. A twitch, but one of the hardest damn movements he ever had to make.

Casey eased into the doorway, his shooter’s stance squared, drawing attention to the gun pointed at the riders. “That’s close enough,” he said. “You can stop right there.”

Bryce held up his hands in surrender. “No need to shoot. Hear us out first, Casey. We have a deal for you.”

“I thought you understood your instructions.”

“Before you jump to conclusions or do anything rash, Casey, you have to know your boss was never going to let me out of there alive.”

“Bullshit.”

The other man, clean-shaven, all in charcoal grey save for a burgundy vest, nodded at Bryce. “Listen to him. They would’ve killed him.”

At the sound of the man’s voice, Casey jaw clenched. He endured this line of crap only because one niggling thought in the back of his mind told him he needed to. “Why don’t you tell me, then, Bryce? Because the way I see it, you really want to die today. Liam blew the first chance, so you came back here to give me the opportunity to be the one to put a bullet in your brain. Huh. Maybe I should be thanking him for that.”

“I had to jump out a window to escape!” Bryce countered. “The only reason I managed to make it out of there was because of the courier. I’m sure you remember the man who brought me there?” He steered his horse slightly in front of the other one. “He wanted his money, but your boss didn’t think he earned it. Imagine that. It led to a shoot-out right there in the front yard, Casey. That diversion was the only way I got out alive.”

“You should’ve come straight back here,” Casey said gruffly. “On your own.”

The acknowledgment that Bryce was not alone was the opening the other man was looking for. He dug his heels into the horse and urged the animal ahead. He didn’t seem to care that the move made Casey shift the barrel from Bryce to the man jockeying ahead. Instead, the stranger inclined his head and flashed an ironic smile.

“Mr. Casey,” he said stiffly. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your pants on. Oh. And without the handcuffs, I see.”

Bryce gave a confused look before his brows edged up. “Oh. Ah, I guess I was never let in on the circumstances of your first introduction. Sounds like I missed something.”

You think? Idiot. Dead man idiot.

“Turns out I had no problem recognizing your stench coming down the road,” Casey managed to say through his clenched jaw. He pulled back on the hammer, enjoying the way the man’s eyes widened when the cylinder clicked. “Seems I should take care of that problem.”

“What?” Bryce blurted, bringing up a hand. “No, Casey, you have to listen,”

The instant he opened his mouth, Casey shifted his arm, got off a shot that squarely plucked Bryce at the top of his head. Bryce’s hat went flying backwards. Seeing it tumble on the ground, the twit ran his hand through his hair. No blood, he saw, but from the look in his eyes, he understood quite well how easy it would’ve been.

“You. Not another word. I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Casey said. Considering Bryce duly warned, he locked eyes with the other man. “It also helps to pick you out since you have a nasty habit of arriving in the company of greasy turds like that one.” The barrel briefly flicked in Bryce’s direction. “Last time it was Rudy, now Bryce Larkin.”

“As opposed to your esteemed associates, Mr. Casey. Like the one who is currently holding Chuck for a ransom?”

“Johnnie.”

Casey suddenly jerked his head towards the female voice that had called his name. By the time he picked out the stand of trees at the side of the shanty, Sabine was already edging out of the clearing. Her rifle was pointed at Bryce. “We heard a little fuss going on here,” she said, “and decided it might be prudent to take the trail back there. Hope you don’t mind the extra company, boys.”

“Wait. Who is this?” Bryce asked. “She wasn’t part of the plan.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Now you wanna stick to the plan?”

The two riders angled around in their saddles to get an eyeful of the woman approaching them, boots snapping over a few twigs. “Me and Molly are part of the team now,” Sabine said. “Is that going to be an issue?”

“Molly?” Bryce asked.

Sabine leveled the gun at his head. “Meet Molly. Huh.” Her focus narrowed. “You’re quite pretty.”

“Who are you, woman?” The other man eyed her, his square jaw as hard as limestone. “What are you doing out here? Put your gun down.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you come and get it from me, Monsieur?”

“Casey, what’s going on?” Bryce reached into his torn vest and pulled out a knife. “That’s all I have, okay? No guns. You have to listen to me. I was only trying to stay alive so that I could come back here and help.”

“Remind me why I didn’t kill you when I had you in my hotel room,” Casey said, stepping out of the doorway. “Because right now, I’m asking myself why I trusted you. Guess my rule still holds true. Never trust a man who’s prettier than a painted up dame.”

“So, you had Mr. Larkin in your bed, too?” The other rider sent a death glare his way. “You have been quite busy, Mr. Casey.”

Casey decided to ignore that particular insinuation making the illness in his stomach spread. “Why you’d bring him here, Bryce?” Casey demanded in a low growl.

“Trust me, he can help – we’ll all get what we want,”

“Did you just ask me to trust you?”

“Don’t shoot.” Bryce inhaled sharply before he edged his horse between the man and Casey. “If not for me ... for Chuck.”

The Moron, who had been amazingly keeping his trap shut, chose that moment to step forward, those puny little arms of his raised. “Everyone just take it easy,” he said, his expression growing confused as he turned to Casey. “Hang on, man. Did you just ask Bryce why he brought him here? I thought that was the plan. Bring Liam to you. Alone. Why are we acting angry and well, pointing guns? Shouldn’t we be – okay, maybe not happy, but relieved? With fewer guns aimed at each other?”

“Dimwit,” Casey growled, holding the Colt level to the Bryce’s head. “This isn’t Liam.”

“It’s not?” Sabine jerked her head. Glimpsing over at her, Casey noticed a frown had wiggled its way across her forehead. The silence thundered for three, four seconds as they all turned to focus on the new guest in their midst. “Then who is it?”

Casey, his gun turning slightly to aim at the man in question, stared at the visitor with venom in his eyes. “We’ve met. Let me introduce you,” he said. “This living breathing turd standing here? The one who’s going to get his head removed the hard way if he keeps reaching for his gun? He’s the kid’s so-called father.”

-x-

“Wake up, boyo. Time to go.”

“Wh-what? Oh ... ouch. Damnit.” Chuck’s neck cranked up before he could remember he was flat on his stomach and his head couldn’t go back any further, understandably so. He had been dumped on the quilt, and after struggling to find the least painful way to stretch out, the kid settled on this. And since Liam left him with his hands tied behind his back – in a big way, he had to blame Bryce for that, too – it could only mean resting his aching body by lying face down into the filthy bed. How he had managed to drift off was a testament to his dead-dog weariness. Kind of the way the bed smelled.

“Get up, kid.”

“Who? Me?” But since the last time Chuck checked, he was the only one being held hostage in the bedroom, there was really only one target for rousting out of bed. Chuck felt that the attack of dread beginning to eat its way through his stomach was now more than justified.

“Don’t even think of playing possum,” he heard Liam say. Heavy footsteps crossed the room. “We made plans, or did you forget?”

Chuck rolled onto his side and tried to put more room between himself and the man lumbering towards him. “Go?” he asked. Jerking backwards, he succeeded in smacking his head against one of the bedposts. “Ow! Um, I’m comfortable here, but thanks anyway.”

“Yes, I see that.” Smirking, Liam just grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him away from the danger of whacking his head again or his attempt to roll up against the back wall. “I said it’s time to go. I’ll be offended if you don’t join me.”

“J-join you?” Chuck blinked.

Instead of replying right away, Liam simply yanked him to his feet, opened the door that led out of the bedroom, and shoved Chuck through. He towed the kid down the darkened hallway, strong fingers biting into the kid’s bicep

“Ouch. Haven’t we had this talk? I mean, can you back off a little on the dragging routine? I’m capable of walking by myself.” With the timing of the devil, Chuck stumbled on Liam’s boot. “Crap.”

“Indeed. I see your charm is only surpassed by your dexterity, boy.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Chuck muttered. Sarcasm was the last thing he needed. “Where are we going?”

“I’m making good on our earlier discussion, obviously.” Liam kept dragging and pulling until he’d walked Chuck down the hall, past a once grand parlor and a wide entrance hall that lead into a dining room. “I told you we would have dinner together. Maybe get to know each other a little better before our friend arrives tomorrow. I’m doing you a favor, boy, so do me a favor and try to walk without tripping.”

Chuck balked in the doorway. “I already told you. I’m not hungry,” he argued. Since that didn’t work, the kid tried to jerk his shoulder out of Liam’s grip. That backfired when the man only gripped him harder. A new pain shot down Chuck’s arm. “Damnit. Stop. Please.”

Liam didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he turned Chuck to face him and dug both hands into the kid’s upper arms. “You like to do things the hard way, don’t you, sweet cheeks?”

“Um, not necessarily.” Ow, ow, ow!

Liam gave him a shove. “Grab a chair, lover. Time to eat.” Chuck saw him pause to study his body up and down before he ended his inspection by fixing his amused eyes on the kid’s face. “This will do you well, actually.”

“What?”

“You’re quite thin,” Liam said. “Doesn’t your boyfriend ever feed you?”

“Maybe I’m mistaken,” Chuck snapped back, knowing he could get smacked around for this, “but aren’t you the one who’s currently taking such good care of me? And I could’ve sworn I missed both breakfast and lunch today. Hey, if you kindly untie my hands, I could just grab a horse and run into town. Pick up some dinner. Honestly, it’s not an inconvenience at all.”

“Mm,” Liam said, clacking his tongue. “I can see why he likes you. All of those pretty little muscles of yours tighten up when you’re angry, boy.”

Chuck returned the insult with a sour look. But God, it had to be obvious, since he stood in front of the other man half naked. Suddenly self-conscious of his bare torso – and maybe it had something to do with the way Liam was smirking at his body – Chuck backed up a step and looked down at himself. It was as if the man knew exactly which button to press. As if he knew Chuck had always been naturally shy and hated being openly perused by almost anyone.

“Go to hell,” he mumbled. “And I’m not your boy.”

Fortunately his captor was in one of his magnanimous moods, Chuck noticed, when he didn’t’ immediately get cuffed in the head. Maybe his damn nobleness was triggered by the aromas coming from the kitchen. “You should be thankful I’m sharing my supper with you,” Liam said. “And who knows, perhaps later you’ll have a chance to show me your appreciation, brown eyes.”

How the hell did he know that was Casey’s pet name? Well, Chuck tried to thank him, all right. With a kick to his shin. “You – you can just take me back to the room now. I told you I’d rather starve.”

Chuck swung his leg to give him another wallop, but was stopped when one of those giant hands clamped on the back of his jeans and gave him a squeeze. Hard, with a promise of what was to come. “And I believe I told you we need to play nice tonight.”

“Let. Go,” Chuck shot back at him.

“Private property? Humph.” Grinning, Liam clutched his fingers into the butt cheek a mile past the point of pain. When Chuck opened his mouth to yelp, he merely groped him harder. “It might be negotiable by tomorrow.”

“Like hell.”

“You do sound like him sometimes,” Liam said, moving his hand back up to Chuck’s arm now that he had made some kind of horrible point. “Sit down.”

Chuck continued to dig his heels in. A lot of good that did him, he thought dejectedly, as he was shoved up to the side of a high-back dining chair. “No isn’t part of your vocabulary, is it?”

“Hardly. Especially when it comes to you, button.” Another push had Chuck landing in the seat. “Now keep your ass in that chair like a good boy.”

Finding himself stuck in the last place he wanted to be, the kid was torn between a self-conscious hunching of his shoulders and a wrenching in his gut to run anyway. Chuck used the opportunity to assess his surroundings – nothing he could use for a weapon, unless the ugly drapes became ghosts with an urge to suffocate a man – and then turned his petulant glower to his jailor. “Nice decorating.”

“Why are you looking at me that way?” Liam asked, feigning innocence. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Chuck said, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Not to mention, his bound hands were now crushed against the back of the chair. Even if he wanted to eat, how could he?

“That’s irrelevant, kid. We’re going to have dinner – or should we call it The Last Supper?” Liam smiled and sat in the chair at the head of the table, turning just a bit to face Chuck. He had purposely shoved him into the seat kitty-corner to him at his left. When Liam angled around, the flames from the fireplace hit every detail of his profile, so close. The flicking light illuminated grooves and dips around his eyes and mouth, harsh and sharp, accentuated by his slight smile. “No? Maybe you’re right. Probably too dramatic. Cigarette?”

Chuck pressed his lips together, openly scowling.

“My apologies, suile donna.” Liam helped himself to one by tapping it into his palm and snapped the lid on the silver case. “Oh, you recognize the term. Does he call you that, too?”

Chuck’s reply turned the air blue. It only made Liam give another small smile.

“Yes, charming. What should we do with your hands? Rabbit boy? You wouldn’t try to do anything extremely foolish like try to run again, would you? Or maybe you want to slug me instead? Is that it?” Striking a match, he lit the cigarette, the acrid burn and faint glow of the tip drawing the kid’s attention. After waving the match out, Liam leaned forward and his smile took on the cat that sucked out the bones of the canary. “Though it seems you have squeamishness towards violence. Well, I can assure you that you won’t enjoy the second round of any punishment I’ll be forced to mete out if you try.”

Chuck sat up straight in the chair and avoided his steady gaze by focusing on the plate. White porcelain china painted with a strand of purple violets around the edge. Pretty and delicate, an oxymoron to everything around him. “Honestly, I haven’t the energy to run.” Oh, man, his mouth was going to get him in trouble, it was. “But don’t get me wrong, I’d love nothing more than to slug you.”

“That wouldn’t be prudent, boyo.” Liam bent forward, drew a thumb over Chuck’s cheek, gently, and then altered the hold by taking him by the chin. Brusquely, he steered his head up to meet his scrutiny. “I’d hate to have to knock you out. So many other things we could be doing.”

“If I’m only here to watch you eat,” Chuck said, giving him a cold stare, “get on with it.”

“Such a smart ... yet pretty mouth.” Liam examined him carefully and took a long drag. “I’m trying to decide what to do. Your shenanigans today do require a penance.”

“Having to sit next to you isn’t punishment enough?” Chuck braced himself. Too late. That time he had apparently pushed too far, earning a crack to the jaw, hard knuckles and all. He should really stop taking the bait.

“Tsk. All this time, they said you were smart,” Liam said, pulling his hand back to rub a finger over his own knuckles. “Yet I find you a slow learner.” Deliberately, he crossed his legs, leaned back further in his chair. Took another deep drag on that cigarette with a style that only a prince could have emulated. Chuck could almost see the internal machines clicking into gear to put the fear into him. “I’m trying to decide how to start.”

“I can leave while you’re doing that.”

“Nice try. You’re thinking you’re fucking with me, though, aren’t you? But really you’re wondering why you’re baiting me when you should be ... afraid.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Chuck said, eyeing the man nervously now before he focused on the fire. Crap! How! Only he would be unlucky enough to be taken hostage by a man whose mean streak was only outdone by his mind reading abilities. “Are we about done here?”

“Scarcely, boy. Let me tell you my thoughts.” Liam flicked ashes on the floor. “First, I’m trying to decide if I should leave your hands like that. Make you eat like a dog? A sweet hungry puppy. Is that what he calls you, brown eyes? His puppy?”

“He really hates to use pet names,” Chuck lied through his teeth. Cupcake, pancake, brown eyes, words in Irish he didn’t even understand. “Except dimwitted oaf – but that one was never directed at me.”

Liam laughed, a low growl that emanated deep and rode up on smoke. “I have to give you credit, breagan buachaill. I’d admire your balls for talking like that.” At once, his mood swung like an axe into a tree trunk; his face came to a standstill, eyes darkened and intent. “Except you must be an idiot for taunting a man like me.” He lowered his voice to tell him, “Someone who’s going to do the things I plan on doing?”

There it was again. Chuck’s belly roiled at that the incomprehensible suggestion. “Casey’s not going to let anything happen to me,” he finally managed to say.

“How is it that you have so much faith in him still?” Liam put his elbows in the table. “Won’t he eventually just leave you to me because it’s more important to protect his own ass? More importantly, my money?”

“I can promise you that won’t happen,” Chuck said, trying not to reveal how loose of a string he was holding onto.

The kid started to look away to avoid the intimacy of close eye contract, but Liam anticipated him. Cupping his jaw, he held him in place, studying him like a strange bug in a jar. “Christ, you are just priceless, puppy. Just priceless in your naiveté.” Liam reached over to run a palm down the kid’s thigh, his thumb passing over to explore his flat stomach before he changed direction to hold him down by the hip. “Why not show you, then? A demonstration. Your vaunted John Casey, your protector ... well, he can’t stop me from doing this, can he?”

Chuck tensed. He felt Liam’s hold compensating, knew he couldn’t get away without a fight, without the use of his hands. The kid could only watch while the glowing tip of the cigarette was slowly and purposefully pressed to his dirt-streaked chest, between his right pectoral and the hollow of his throat. Skin burned.

“There?” Liam murmured, watching his eyes.

Chuck swallowed and forced himself to remain still, though he wanted to scramble away. To scream. He’d only make it worse if he did. Don’t move, don’t let him -

“Sir, I have ... your dinner,” a man said, hesitating near the door.

Liam dropped his hand holding the cigarette and swiveled around his seat. “Bring it in. Set the plates here. You can pour two glasses of that scotch before you leave.” He nodded towards the hutch on the opposite wall of the fireplace. “I’m feeling generous. Make his a double.”

Chuck briefly squeezed his eyes shut to push the moisture away, his jaw flexing. His hands clenched into fists behind his back. “You son of a bitch,” he whispered. When he began to jerk away, Liam caught his arm, held him there with a fierce grip and an even fiercer look.

“Did you hear me?” Liam said without turning. “Bring the scotch, laddie. And take away my dining companion’s knife and fork. He won’t need them.”

The young man, a nervous blond fellow Chuck didn’t remember seeing until now, knew he had interrupted unusual circumstances. Scurrying around the table, the server filled the plates and scooped up Chuck’s utensils. “I, um, have more roasted chicken in the oven ... if you’d like seconds when you’re done,” he said, bringing the scotch glasses. He set one down in front of Liam, gave Chuck a quizzical look, and set down the other. “Anything else, sir?”

“Yes, shut the door behind you,” Liam ordered, holding onto Chuck’s knee to keep him quiet.

The young man wiped his hand on his pants and departed, taking the platter he had used to bring in the serving bowls, and leaving the same tense silence in his wake.

Liam waited until the door closed behind him and he rose to his feet. “Okay. Lesson One.” Reaching out, he threaded his fingers into Chuck’s dark, thick waves. When Chuck pulled back, he curled his fingers into his hair more deeply in response, tangling, before he tipped the kid’s head straight up, forcefully. Now he had no choice but to look directly into those black eyes. “You have a mouth on you, boy.”

“You too,” Chuck said between gritted teeth. “Asshole.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have you better trained.” Liam regarded him in a whole new light now. Gone was the almost playful leer – in its place was an appreciative gleam much more dangerous to Chuck. “Though, on the other hand, it does give me the opportunity to do it myself.”

Chuck felt his brows draw down. “That’s not how it works between us – not that it should concern you. Either way, you can – ah – forget about showing me any of your training techniques.” And did he have to pull his hair like that?!

“He finally found his match, huh?”

“No, actually, I finally found mine. Lucky, wasn’t I?” Boy, days like this, he did wonder.

Liam chuckled, shaking his head so that a few strands of hair fell down over his forehead. “Yes, lucky you. What’s more, however, it explains a lot.”

“What does that even mean –”

“Techniques,” Liam said, tugging his head back another inch or two. The pressure on his neck had him wincing. “Yes ... let’s start there. Why don’t you show me your techniques? You can begin by sucking on this.”

Instantly, Chuck forgot about how bizarre it was to be sparring with a man who wanted to kill him. Right after he did things the kid didn’t even want to think about. Thoughts of everything but escape fled his mind. “What?” he demanded, panic raising his voice. He scrambled backwards in the chair, eyes glued to the larger man looming over him. “I’m not going to – gah.”

The protest gave Liam the opening he was looking for. Quite literally, too. Without a qualm, the other man stuck his thumb in Chuck’s mouth. “No, not yet, anyway,” he said coolly. “We’re only talking about your method. I’m here to see what you can do.”

Chuck’s brain was whirling too fast for anything to process. His first reaction was to try and push Liam’s thumb with his tongue. When that was a failure, well, he had to do what he had to do. Chuck parted his lips a bit further – and put everything he could into biting the bastard.

Liam probably knew it was 90/10 that that was going to happen. His reaction wasn’t a surprise. Chuck braced himself, but it didn’t stop it. The punishing thwack to the cheek nearly sent him to the floor.

“Bastard,” Chuck mumbled, his body reeling into the table hard enough to make it rattle.

Too bad Chuck only got the tip of his thumb. Liam shook his head, staring at the smear of blood. His lips twisted, but the wry amusement died as he remembered who was getting a lesson.

“Ah, the puppy has teeth,” Liam muttered. His hand crashed into Chuck’s face again before the kid could jerk his head back. Stars popped around the edge of his vision. “To say nothing of a technique that will need some practice. I have plans for that.”

Chuck blinked away the sparks. Jesus, what an ass. His head was ringing, but he figured he had bigger picture concerns at the moment. Liam loosened the hand threaded into Chuck’s curls, one last shake to warn him, and his other hand moved down his bare back, digging into the taut flesh, even as he drew his palm lower.

Chuck sucked in a breath. “What – are you doing!” To say he felt terrified was an understatement. He felt frozen and overheated, but shockingly, Liam’s fingers dropped to the strip of suede that Bryce had done such a fine job of tying off earlier in the day.

His captor was untying him? That made no sense.

“Why are you like this, boy?” Liam went on, his voice low. “I can treat you well, can’t I?”

“Give me a minute to answer,” Chuck groused under his breath. “I’d like to make sure my jaw is still in working order.” He was only half kidding about his jawbone, and wiggled it back and forth a few times just to make sure he could still babble when the need arose. Which it would. “Are you going to give me a chance to demonstrate that technique on you – ow! “ His hands were free, but now something tugged around his middle. “What – hey -”

“Did you think I would leave you like that?” Liam asked, wasting no time tying off the strip around the kid’s waist to secure him to the chair. “You’ve already proven you’ll hop away at any given opportunity. Isn’t that right, rabbit boy?”

Chuck frowned and leaned forward slightly. At the moment, he didn’t even care about being compared to a jumpy hare, not when the blood rushed down his arms and into his hands, the tingling hurting almost as much as the ropes. “Sorry if that offends you,” the kid told him with enough cynicism to get smacked again. “Not that the accommodations and entertainment haven’t been just peachy, but I had plans for the past few days.”

Oh, God, did he ever. The arrival of his not-so-dead boyfriend had stirred up a different kind of ache. That warm, familiar body coaxed things to life that he’d buried six feet under his heart well over four months ago. A murmur in the dark, the touch of a hand passing over his hair as he drifted off to sleep -

Chuck jolted at an unwelcome sensation. Getting his hair ruffled by Liam was the last thing he expected.

“I bet you had plans,” Liam said, and at last he pulled his hand free, but not before he ran a it up the kid’s bare back and – unfathomably – buried his mouth in a mess of curls to take a kiss. As if it was perfectly normal to bruise a man one second and peck him the next. What the hell?

Chuck watched him wide-eyed and leery as he took his seat again, glancing at the plate of food. “Why are you like that, boy? I could’ve made you eat like a dog. I gave you use of your hands didn’t I?”

“Really kind of you.” Chuck made a point to rub his jaw where he had been smacked a minute ago. It still stung like hell.

“Let’s get some food in you, shall we?” Liam said, his tone lighter. Picking up his fork and knife, he began to carve his chicken. “Be civilized. Eat up.”

Chuck knew he should ignore Liam’s order. Maybe flip the plate on the floor and tell him he can find another dog to share his meal.

He wasn’t a complete idiot, however. His stomach had begun making its presence known – and loudly – ever since the young man had put the food in front of him. Roasted chicken, potatoes that had soaked up the juices, green beans, and buttered bread sat heaped on the plate. And if he had any chance of getting out of here, the kid knew he was going to need his energy.

Without a word, Chuck dug in, tearing apart the chicken with his fingers and stuffing it in his mouth with a chaser of the bread. He downed half the contents of the plate, eating whole chunks of the potatoes and beans, barely tasting it because he was too hungry to bother with it. When he finished almost every bite, mopping up the gravy with bread, he finally noticed the glass of water next to the scotch and polished that off next.

“Easy, boy,” Liam said, watching him closely and obviously amused by his appetite. “We don’t need you choking on dinner.” He finished off a forkful of green beans and picked up his napkin. “Why don’t we chat, you and me? You had a few hours to catch up with an old pal, didn’t you? Running off today like that.”

Chuck just shook his head, finally took a drink of the scotch to let him know he had no intention of going there.

“Not talking?” Liam’s gaze stayed absolutely level on his face, his features perfectly mirroring the stubbornness on Chuck’s. “Where was your friend taking you? He must’ve told you what his plan was? Where John Casey is?”

“Who knows? He could even be on his way here.” Chuck pasted a sarcastic smile on his face as he looked around, deliberately indicating the darkened windows and anything that may be lurking beyond the glass. “What if he has a gun pointed at your head right now ... and you don’t even know it?”

After a moment, Liam looked both intrigued and resigned. “I know how we can find out.”

“Yeah? How?”

Uh-oh. Maybe that was the wrong tactic.

Something flew up, and instantly, Liam held a handful of Chuck’s hair again, dragging the taller man’s face closer to him. After that, all the kid saw was a pair of coal eyes.

“So tough, aren’t you?” Liam asked in a silky voice, leaning in threateningly. His quicksilver change in moods was making Chuck dizzy. Liam truly was a psychopath. “Trying to be brave, all for the benefit of you lover. Make him proud of you. Mm. But your dark eyes, boy ... so beautiful, aren’t they? It’s a shame that they give away everything. Did you know that?”

His eyes? Well, Casey might’ve mentioned a couple times – maybe a couple hundred times – that Chuck’s eyes were like a coffee-colored book. One look told too many stories.

“I can keep secrets,” Chuck said, gently tugging his head. “And if you don’t mind, it’s hair, for crying out loud. Not an easy to grab carrying handle.”

“Seems easy to me, kid.”

“Hilarious.”

Liam chuckled, and as his breath grew heavier, Chuck’s throat took on a sickly sandpaper feeling. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Casey was supposed to be here. Didn’t he promise to take care of him, keep him safe ..?

“Chuck, let me show you what I mean.” The instant Liam spoke, impossibly austere, his big palm slid out of the kid’s hair, but he didn’t let go.

Jesus, what was he doing? The touch of his hand drawing down Chuck’s neck, his chest, to his flat stomach caught the kid in an unguarded moment. He tried to jerk back, but Liam simply slid his fingers into the top of his jeans and held on. “If John Casey was watching us right now, he’d stop me from doing this, do you agree?”

Chuck tried to melt into the back of the chair. Son of a bitch, son of a bitch .... “You could try, but only if you think it’s worth dying for,” the kid retorted. “He’ll - he’ll kill you ....”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” His eyes glinted with humor and lust stirred by the challenge. “Now let’s talk about round two of your punishment.”

x-End Chapter Eleven Where the Road Ends-x-


	12. Chapter Twelve

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twelve

 

“We’ve met. Let me introduce you,” Casey growled, barely moving his lips. “This living breathing turd standing here? The one who’s going to get his head removed the hard way if he keeps reaching for his gun? He’s the kid’s so-called father.”

-x-

“His ... father?” Sabine was moving around to position herself next to Casey like the deadly other half of a wall. The barrel of her rifle brushed his shoulder, and the two approaching riders drew up short and went very still at the presence of a pair of guns now aimed at their heads. “This isn’t Liam?”

“Hell, no.” When the men brought their horses nearer, Casey made a point of sizing up the older, citified-looking one. “He’s about half a Liam,” he said and his thumb subtly moved, pulled back on the hammer. A bullet fell into place with a metallic click. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some business to attend to. Idiot, climb down off your horse. I’d rather kill a man face to face.”

“Casey, I have a plan,” Bryce said quickly. Ghost white looked at home on him, which was good considering he’d be one in thirty seconds. “You have to listen to me!”

“Have to? Like, what, you’re giving the orders here? Larkin, you forgot something. You were supposed to lead Chuck and Liam to me. Luckily, I have a little reminder right here.” Casey motioned with the barrel. “Now get down.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Bryce held his hands over his head, perhaps hoping Casey wouldn’t shoot a man in surrender. “The aforementioned bad guys with guns you sent me to were going to kill me!”

Sabine edged her chin forward to get a better look. “Johnnie, perhaps you could enlighten the rest of us as to how Chuck’s father became involved in this little problem?” she hissed out the side of her mouth.

“Just say it’s a long God damn story.” Casey, by now, had inched closer to the horses, gun steady. “And hardly a little problem.”

Her eyes darted to Bryce with a questioning look.

“What he said,” Bryce explained sourly.

“But maybe the little shuck could enlighten us,” Casey went on, “as to why he decided today would be a good day to die.”

“Hang on. You’ve met the father?” Sabine asked. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” God, here it comes.

“And you weren’t wearing ... pants? But rather, handcuffs?” One accusatory brow lifted ever so slightly. “Tres interessant.”

Casey gave her a side-eye without breaking his stance. “Makes the long story look quite short in comparison,” he admitted in a low mutter. “Get down from that horse, Bryce.”

“So you do know what the hell is going on?” she whispered urgently to him, still with the eyebrow raised. Fuck, it happened, okay?

“I have a fairly good idea, but I’m about to interrupt the plans,” Casey said. “Larkin, in about five seconds I’m going to break my rule and just shoot you from down here.”

“What is this place?” Mr. Adams spoke up, searching beyond the two guns aimed at them to the dilapidated slave shanty where Casey had materialized. The last remnants of sunlight purled the sky to the west, dappling the tops of the surrounding trees and leaving long shadows over them. “Do you have my son? Is he here?”

“Yeah, perfect. You told him some phony story to get him out here.” Casey nodded at the man’s boggled face, gauging cluelessness. Yep. Sighing, he then swiveled to Bryce and merely cocked his gun. “Of course, you did. Usually, I’d say that’s quite admirable. Now, it just makes my fingers itch.”

“Phony story?” Apparently, this bothered the kid’s old man: he scowled, and Casey wanted to point out that Charles Adams didn’t have the market cornered on people pissed off at Bryce. “I should’ve had one of my men take care of you, Bryce, when you showed up today at the hotel,” Adams bit out. “You promised me I’d get what I want.”

Despite everything, Casey had to chuckle at Bryce. “Way to have people getting in line to kill you, imbecile. Now make it easy on yourself, and climb on down -”

“Whoa, just a minute.” The man-child Moron, coming out of nowhere, entered the middle of the stand-off with his hands in the air as if it would stop a stray bullet. Obviously, Sabine had found the two greenhorns as Casey had instructed, but apparently the little guy didn’t know enough to stay back and let the adults handle this. With every step, Casey could see his face in the growing darkness clearer. “Can’t we just talk through this like reasonable adults?”

“Ah, hell,” Casey mumbled. He sighed and turned towards the taller man behind Morgan rather than going for the dwarf’s throat. No matter how badly his hand wanted to. “Hey, you. Doctor. Yes, you,” he said when Devon just blinked at him. “Take the little idiot and get inside. Both of you, now. That’s an order.”

“Listen, bro,” Devon said, hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture as he edged warily into the potential ring of gunfire. “He does have a point. I don’t know what any of this means, or why Bryce brought Chuck’s dad here, but it seems we should hear him out.”

“Casey, listen to them,” Bryce argued. “I have a way we can -”

“Shut it, you little turd.”

“What do you plan on doing now, Mr. Casey?” Adams kept his attention on his opponents, deliberately steering his horse between Bryce and the line of fire. “Do you plan on killing me as well?”

Casey looked down the barrel sight and growled. No one crossed him like this and lived to tell about it. The last few minutes confirmed that not only did Bryce have a death wish by taking matters into his own greasy hands, but he brought another man Casey wouldn’t mind putting down like a horse with a broken leg.

Still, Casey had to consider the magnitude of excess baggage, a helluva load of it, if he did put a bullet through the old man and left his body here in the dust. Not now, of course. Later ... when he’d retell it for his boyfriend.

How did one start that conversation? Chuck was afraid of his father. Deep down, he probably despised him. That just went to show how shitty of a father he was if even someone like the kid could build up that kind of hatred.

But being the man to kill Chuck’s dad? That would be something he’d never forget, every time Chuck turned those brown eyes on him. Always be there, hanging like a shroud in the back of the mind. How did someone like Chuck stay with a man who killed his father? Eventually, it’d eat away at him, wouldn’t it? If he could just let an ounce of logic past the fury right now, Casey’s preference would be not to have that bit of unpleasantness hanging over them. Only because this was a young man he personally planned to spend his life with, or die trying.

“Adams, I’m only saying this once.” Casey cast a glower between the man and what he could see of Bryce poking out behind him. “If you care at all about your son, you will take your horse, turn around, and get the hell out of here.”

“My son?” Adams chuckled, turned his head and spit on the ground. Though Casey still had his Colt pointed at the man’s chest, apparently it didn’t faze him any longer. Instead, the father brought his horse within six paces of Casey. When he spoke, his voice was low, a message only for him. “My son is worthless to me,” he said precisely. “The boy’s been ruined. First by those moonstruck dreams of his, now by you. He needs to be institutionalized, somewhere safe but in my custody. Nevertheless, we both know what I truly desire out of this. Be certain, John, I’m not stopping until I get it.”

What a surprise. The cursed, bad-omen Cipher, Casey thought, and it took everything not to shoot him right then. It did validate why Bryce was tasked to bring Chuck to his dad in the first place. If only they knew. Weathered, worn, the heavy tome that had burdened the kid for so long wasn’t so lost anymore. The Cipher was carefully packed away in one of the satchels not twenty yards from where they stood.

“That’s never going to happen,” Casey said gruffly back at him. “You can keep looking to your grave for all I care.”

A quick sweep of the others revealed various levels of confusion. Only Sabine could overhear their little chat, and she knew enough to stay quiet. The only indication that she was tense at the notion of bloodshed was the way the muscles in her hand holding the rifle seemed to shake ever so slightly.

The father steered his fidgety horse closer to loom over him, putting the man’s immaculate grey riding coat nearly within reach. It would be so easy to grab a handful of cloth and just yank him off. “Listen very carefully. I want it. I’m not going to stop until I have it. If you were smart, Mr. Casey, you would’ve cut a deal with me back at that ungodly farm where my son was holed up. He would be safe and you’d be quite wealthy.”

Casey eased forward to fill the last half step between them, his hand tilting upward to keep the sight on the father’s forehead. God, temptation. “Frankly, Mr. Adams,” Casey said, “I do have one regret from that day.”

Adams’ smirk broadened, making his mustache tilt up on one side. “Yes, I suppose you do. Money has that kind of power over all of us, doesn’t it?”

Casey smirked back. And damn, he was better at it. “The regret is that I didn’t blow your head off, skin you like bear, and sell your hide to a dirty silver miner so that he could use it for a sleep sack. I hear they’re always looking for a warm place to fuck their calico girls.”

A muscle in Adams’ jaw jumped. “How poetic,” he spoke, stiffly lurching the horse in an attempt to make him back up. “Exactly the kind of reply I’d expect from a filthy scalawag. You have quite a unique grasp of the English language.”

“And you have quite a unique way with your son,” Casey replied bluntly. “The first chance he saw, he took what little money he had squirreled away and hopped a train. Think about it. Your son ran away to the most godforsaken outpost he could find to get away from you.”

“Convenient for you, wasn’t it?” Adams popped back at him, clearly unamused. “I’m guessing you’re the type of man who took advantage of the situation, having my son in a remote place all to yourself. You knew he’d be unable to defend his honor against your crude advances.” He looked Casey up and down a second time and snorted. “With the intervention of doctors, perhaps there could’ve been hope for him. Before you taught him a few of your tricks.”

Casey grunted, but refrained from really making the man turn red. If he only knew the kind of tricks the kid seemed to take a liking to. Heh. Even showed a real natural aptitude with the right kind of persuasion. “We covered this ground before,” he said, “but I’ll repeat it again since you seem to be a thick-headed dumbass. The only thing wrong with your son is that his father is an ignorant bastard who doesn’t deserve to sniff the same air as him.”

Rage tightened Adams’ face. “I’m saying this one more time, Mr. Casey,” he said, and in a move to intimidate Casey, he pulled on the reins of his horse, bringing the restless, stomping animal nearly crushing down on one of Casey’s boots. “You know why I’m here. If you don’t know where it is, I will find a way to get to my son.”

“Like hell you will,” Casey sneered.

“And you’re an idiot,” Adams replied. “My monetary offer still stands. You could leave here a rich man. But don’t be mistaken, Mr. Casey. I have at my disposal a variety of hiding places to stash him if the need comes down to that. My last resort to ... extract it if I must. And by God, I will do it. After that, I can do anything at my discretion with him. Oh, and trust me, I will if you try to block me from taking what I came here to get.” His gaze narrowed in warning. “There’s no way for you to stop me. I will attend to my family problems, John.”

“Well, now you have a new problem,” Casey said. “And don’t be mistaken, Mr. Adams, there is a way to stop you.” He squinted down the barrel and hoped the horse wasn’t the kind to sprint at the crack of gunshots, since they might be able to use the poor animal later. “Six ways, if I counted the slugs properly.”

Adams frowned. “You can count. Surprising. Most boys who grow up as sorry sodbusters never see the inside of a school house.”

Casey kept his eyes and gun trained on him. His finger had gone beyond twitching. If he waited any longer, he might not have the opportunity to take care of the problem the way it needed to be solved. He hated to think what would happen if he didn’t pull the trigger and dear old Dad somehow showed his ugly mug around Chuck again.

Eh. Maybe he could tell the kid it was an accidental discharge and his daddy’s right eye got in the way.

On the other hand, the kid was pretty smart. Maybe he’d have to work on sprucing that story up just a mite.

Casey peered up at him, surveying his options with pursed lips. Just his luck that Bryce chose that moment to move his horse around Adams. “Casey, what are you doing?”

“Re-thinking my strategy,” he said, pulling back on the hammer again.

“Okay, forgive me for interrupting, Casey,” Morgan said from the position he had taken up with the doctor,” but does it involve shooting?”

“Nah. I plan on rewarding Bryce for his fine decision making by letting him borrow my horse, ride her through town with flames coming out of her ass. Then maybe he can get drunk and take care of his business by taking a leak in my favorite hat.”

“Sarcasm?”

Casey just gave Morgan a look.

“All righty, then.” Morgan glanced around uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Shooting it is. I think we’re going to need another strategy.”

“Listen to him, Casey,” Bryce said. He eased forward again, his hand settling on his hip until he remembered he had no weapon. “You have to hear me out.”

“The last time I listened to you, you saved your hide by warning me about Chuck’s dad instead of doing the decent thing and leaving out the window.”

“It was a three story window. Oh, and you were preparing to toss me out of it!”

Casey shrugged it off and nodded tersely in the direction of the so-called father. “Now you brought him right to me. Kind of ruins the whole reason I decided to keep you alive, Bryce.”

“What a surprise.” Adams was sitting higher in his saddle now. “You’re still the same stubborn ass I remember.”

“Wait, guys. I agree with Morgan.” Devon decided to join the party by inching up cautiously with his hands outstretched. “Wow, did I just say that? Anyway, we need to reassess this ... shooting idea. Casey, bro, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Good idea, doc. Why don’t you get right in the middle of it?” Casey said it with a heap of cynicism, but even an intelligent doctor could have a tough time with his nuances of satire, so he gave a tiny motion with the gun and rolled his eyes. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? Why does everyone need this explained to them? This is a gun, genius. You pull the trigger, it goes boom. Sometimes, if they’re still wiggling, there’s a nice scream after that – but only if you’re lucky.”

“That’s lucky?” Devon’s eyes cut from Bryce to Casey. He tried to diffuse the showdown with a tight smile until he saw there wasn’t much humor in either man’s expression. “Um, Casey, dude –”

“Shut it. I’m taking care of a problem I should’ve disposed of a few days ago,” Casey said. Swinging the Colt a foot to the right, he squinted down the barrel at Bryce Larkin. The younger man went pale when he realized which problem Casey would fix first. “No time for last words, Bryce. Just put your hands down. Try not to die like the coward you are.”

Chuck’s father yanked his reins and put himself in Bryce’s line of fire. He was making a nasty habit of that. “He’s not the enemy.”

“That’s exactly who he is,” Casey told him, his voice low and vicious. “Get out of the way, Adams.”

“Johnnie ... careful,” he heard Sabine whisper.

She had been quiet forever, but as soon as she spoke, Casey felt the slight tremor across his shoulder blades. That damn woman. Like every other time his body language spoke, she listened. This was the moment he could pull the trigger and change his relationship with Chuck from here on out. She was telling him it’d never roll off the kid’s skin. If he did it, put a bullet hole in Bryce and then the old man for good measure, it was infinitely trickier, perhaps impossible to go back.

Bryce should probably thank Chuck’s dad for steering the horse in the line of fire. It wasn’t familiar territory not to just pull the trigger anyway and chock it up to collateral damage.

Behind Adams, he could hear Bryce expel a frustrated blast of air. The younger man turned the horse so that Casey could see him only for brief glimpses as the horses stomped and repositioned. “Here’s the deal, Casey,” Bryce explained impatiently. “Liam saw me as expendable –”

“Yeah? We have that much in common.”

“But - he wanted me dead!”

Casey barked out a hollow laugh. “So far, kid, you’re not convincing me of anything.”

“And he was going to kill me when he found out I couldn’t lead him to you. The only way he stopped his goon from putting a bullet in me ... was Chuck’s dad.”

“Let me guess. Now you think you have a plan,” Casey said, re-aiming the barrel, just as Bryce stuck his head out from behind Adams one more time. This was it.

“It intrigued him, okay?” Bryce rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I don’t know the details, but he wanted to be able to finally close the loop on a deal that they were never able to negotiate.”

And there wasn’t a single shred of evidence Liam still wanted to deal. Or that anything coming out of Bryce’s lips was true.

“What would it cost you, Mr. Casey, to leave him alive for another thirty seconds?” Adams asked. “Let him explain.”

Obviously, the old man had been fully briefed on the way out to the slave shanty. Another detail that pissed Casey off to no end. “Depends on how badly I needed a plug nickel.”

Bryce took this as his signal to talk faster. “Casey, face facts: I go back there, I’m dead.”

“Still having a hard time seeing the disadvantage with this.”

“You go back there, you’re dead,” Bryce pointed out, ignoring him unless one counted the stink-eye. “But if Liam sees that we brought Mr. Adams, that maybe he’s willing to reopen the books, we have a chance to get in ... there ... and get Chuck out.”

“Where,” Casey said in one brittle burst. The air grew cold. It wasn’t a question. “Where did you go today, Bryce?”

Bryce slinked his horse back a step and lifted his shoulders, then let them fall with a noncommittal shrug. “I’m ... not certain, I guess. I’ll have to lead you there in order to find it again.”

“That’s a line of bullshit,” Casey said. “You know exactly where it is.”

“Yes, and that secret will keep me alive,” Bryce countered. “I didn’t get out of there today so that you could kill me.”

“Darn.”

“That means my lips are sealed.”

Casey snorted. “You think so?” Before Bryce could move, the larger man strode around the old man’s horse and grabbed hold of one of Bryce’s legs. One brusque tug was all it took to send the little shit down on his keister into the dirt. “This might help jog those memory banks,” Casey said, jamming the end of his gun against Bryce’s temple. The squeak he got out of him was a satisfying bonus, Casey reckoned, but not enough. “Talk.”

“Honestly, I don’t remember! I could only get there by – by sense of direction! You have to believe me – ow!” he sputtered when Casey jabbed him another time.

“There you go, asking me to believe you again,” Casey said, sparing a glance up a Chuck’s dad. “And look at the present you brought me. All wrapped up in the finest frippery.”

“You can’t kill me,” Bryce said, his breath coming hard. Standing over him now, Casey realized the punk’s clothes reeked of his panic and sweat from his exploits earlier in the day, whatever they were. A thin trickle ran down his temple very close to where the muzzle was pressed. “I’m the only one who can take you there – gah. Easy with the gun!”

“And all of it might be a trap.”

“It’s not. I swear.”

“And I swear this is overdue.” Casey pulled back on the hammer. “Say goodbye, Bryce.”

-x-

Jesus, what was he doing? The touch of his hand drawing down Chuck’s neck, his chest, to his flat stomach caught the kid in an unguarded moment. He tried to jerk back, but Liam simply slid his fingers into the top of his jeans and held on. “If John Casey was watching us right now, he’d stop me from doing this, do you agree?”

Chuck tried to melt into the back of the chair. Son of a bitch, son of a bitch .... “You could try, but only if you think it’s worth dying for,” the kid retorted. “He’ll - he’ll kill you ....”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Liam’s eyes glinted with humor and lust stirred by the challenge. “Now let’s talk about round two of your punishment.”

It really was amazing just how quickly the temperature in a closed off, stifling dining room could plummet. Permafrost depth had nothing on this. When Liam lifted his other hand, his thumb began to trace a cut on Chuck’s marked cheek, then moved down over his bottom lip, and the kid felt yet another sharp taste of fear, so cold that it left smoking burns over his bare skin.

He’s trying to scare you. Don’t let him.

Chuck tried to take a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if he could. The same feeling from the day before, when Liam put his hand on a low place under his belly, threatened to crush his chest. The kid didn’t move.

Well, despite the lack of air, one random body part did seem to be functioning.

Unfortunately for Chuck, it was the one that usually got him in trouble.

“My mistake, I guess. I thought having dinner with you was punishment enough,” Chuck said before his brain could halt his mouth. “Not to say I didn’t enjoy the smell of your rather delightful cigarettes or the dazzling conversation. But between you and Bryce, I’ve had all the fun I can handle for one day. So if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to go back to my room now.”

Liam drew in a breath, looking down the slope of Chuck’s cheek to his lips. “You have quite a mouth, boy. Look at you. Always charming, putting on the brave front.” Bending over the table, he brushed his lips over Chuck’s bare shoulder. His other hand still played with the fabric of his jeans where the buttons were missing. “But I’m afraid we have unfinished business, brown eyes.”

If he didn’t acknowledge the words, Liam’s lips, it wouldn’t be real. Did it work that way? Chuck remained frozen, the lean muscles in his arms rigid bands. With his ribs and face throbbing, there was nothing much he could do, right? He focused on the darkened window straight ahead, letting his alternatives run though his mind like frightened, skittering mice.

There wasn’t going to be a savior bursting through the window. No kissing to make it all better. Only ... Casey’s reminder ... what seemed like eons ago.

Never try to overpower the strongest part of a man, go for his weakest, most vulnerable parts.

Where had they been when Casey told him that? At the farm, Chuck remembered that much at least, after they had become lovers. Curled around each other in bed, Casey had quietly teased him about his lack of technique to subdue him when the outlaw first arrived. Of course, after the first week, the need to get the upper hand dissolved between the blankets, and between showing Chuck how to use his body for reciprocal pleasure, Casey had demonstrated a few other techniques Chuck should know.

Now was probably not the time to be thinking of those particular skills.

But his advice? That was all about Casey leaving the farm that first time. He knew it would come to this. It was all about Chuck needing to learn how to protect himself.

“You can do something about your table manners,” Chuck said. Reaching to take hold of Liam’s wrist, the kid then slid his fingers around the larger man’s pinky finger and held it tight. “For starters, you can have this back.”

“How quaint – erph –”

Chuck flexed the man’s pinky finger backwards and away from his lap, trying to snap it. Liam’s hand automatically peeled away and followed the trajectory.

“What are you – son of a bitch,” Liam muttered.

“First the hair, now ... that. Well, it’s not a handle, either.”

Startled, the larger man all but jerked away, having no choice but to take what was handed to him. “You little bastard,” Liam whispered, pulling his hand free and slowly flexing his fist. If Chuck hadn’t been frazzled and scared out of his mind, it might’ve been interesting watching surprise, pain, comprehension and finally anger flicker across his face in quick succession. “Thank you for the reminder. I should’ve taken care of that problem first.”

“Um, what problem?” Damnit. Come to think of it, when he had tried to ditch Casey in Liam’s barn/cell months ago, that move hadn’t worked so well at the end, either. Now what?

“I’ll show you. Hold still. Need to get your hands out of the way, eh?”

“I told you – no -” Even though he was attached to the damn chair by the rope around his middle, Chuck tried to scoot away while blindly reaching behind his back for the knot. “I was only practicing – and you can’t blame me for trying! Ouch! Hey ....”

“Enough of that kind of practice, boy,” Liam told him. Reaching over the table, he held Chuck back in his chair by the throat. He squeezed his thumb and forefinger into the flesh until the kid felt it harder to breathe. His captor then got up and moved around to the back of the kid’s dining chair. “And thank you for helping me out.”

“H-help? How did I – again! Ow!”

“By bringing your hands back here, sweet meat.” As quickly as Chuck could stutter out his protest, one of Liam’s fists locked around his wrists, while his other hand managed to untie the strip of cloth. “Now hold still.”

Like hell he would. Chuck wrestled, throwing elbows, one making contact with something solid. At least Liam had the decency to grunt out loud at the jab. It didn’t stop him, however. His hands tightened even as Chuck kicked out at the table leg for leverage. “You ... can’t. No!”

“Don’t listen, do you, boy?” Liam asked. The chair wobbled back on two feet, nearly toppling. Liam caught it. But rather than set him down, he kept it tilted, where Chuck now had his feet helplessly off the ground. As much as the kid tried, he had to face facts: he was flat-out exhausted, still suffering with what felt like a cracked rib – and Liam was a strong motherfucker. He could rival John Casey in the brawn department, and the kid figured that was a feat, considering he had felt the ripple of each one of those hard muscles. “Stop fighting, button, or I’ll be forced to add another bruise to your collection.”

“I don’t care! Let. Go,” Chuck yelped. Pulling at his hands was useless, he found out pretty quickly. And painful. Hell, Liam had him untied from the chair with his wrists retied together before Chuck even had a chance of getting in another blow with his elbow.

“Pathetic,” Liam said, chuckling. “Not much of a challenge, boy. Maybe that’s what Johnnie likes about you?”

“You son of a bitch.” Chuck squirmed, his cheeks flushing, biting his lips. “When I get free, I’m going to –”

“You’re going to do what?” Liam asked from behind him. He had his lips pressed to his ear, and with one final tug, hard, the knot around his wrists dug in until Chuck let out another unmanly yelp. “Kick my ass? Kill me?”

Chuck bucked as Liam’s fingers traveled up his back. “I’m – I’m not going to deny Casey the pleasure of that.”

“You need a reminder of who’s in charge, so you won’t be so quick to fight me.” Liam swept his hand to the kid’s nape, and Chuck slanted a look over his shoulder to see the larger man rise to his full height. Evidently satisfied his prisoner wouldn’t get his hands loose anytime soon, Liam came around in front of him and pulled Chuck to his feet. Eye to eye, he continued, “Though ... I must admit, in another way, I rather like it when you show me a little of that spunk of yours.”

“Take me back to the bedroom,” Chuck said, trying to jerk free. He almost sucked in a gasp when it hit him how that could be interpreted. “Um, alone. I’m done playing your little game of ‘See Chuck Squirm,’ okay?”

“You were the one who got my dick hard with your struggles, sweet meat. Trying to tease me – and now you want to ignore it?” Liam, smiling at him, had his grip clamped under the biceps, a highly effective and painful restraint, and he was using his several inches of height difference to his advantage, making it difficult for Chuck to plant his feet or shrug him off. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Well, now you have it.”

“What I wanted didn’t happen. You’re still here.”

“Aw. Let’s just put all of that unpleasantness aside, shall we? I want to keep it friendly between us, you and me. We’re going to get to know each other in a very intimate way, and it might be easier on your boyfriend if he sees you just give into it.”

“You’ll rot in hell,” Chuck muttered, looking down. Even thinking about what Liam implied made him want to expel the contents of his stomach.

“Or do you think he’d prefer to see you fight to the end, pretend that you don’t like the things I’ll do?” Liam placed one hand on Chuck’s bare hip, fingers clutching, while he gauged his reaction. He was visibly eager to feed the kid’s brain with nightmares before shoving him down the hallway to bed. “Letting another man touch you like that ... how much do you think it will bother him? Rage, fury, or will he simply want to kill me before you die?”

If he was cold before, well now, Chuck felt his bones turn to icicles. It took everything to screw up his courage, and hoping it didn’t look like he didn’t have the first clue what he was doing, he kicked out at the big jackass again. He landed a jab to the shin. It was a tiny comfort at best. “Don’t come near me, or I’ll –”

“There you go again, boyo. Empty threats. Good thing Casey brought me a boy who’s pretty to look at, at least. So I’ll forgive you for that one.” Liam lifted a shoulder, a move that almost made Chuck think he would get away with the kick, until the other man said, “After this little lesson.” Lightning quick, his knuckles crashed against Chuck’s jaw. Then he waited with icy patience for the kid to straighten up again. “Better? Hm? I said we need to get to know each other in a more personal manner tonight, and you’re not making it easy for me.”

When Chuck blinked, the entire darkened dining room was lit by specks of stars. “You told me ... yesterday,” he said, his throat suddenly dry, “that - that you weren’t going to – you would wait –”

Liam’s eyes raked over him, pausing at his jeans, riding much too low on his hips. “I said I wasn’t going to fuck you in the ass until then,” he admitted, fingertips biting in as he pushed Chuck up against the table. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to get a first taste of this hard little body of yours. A little roughed up ... but still nice. Maybe find out what made my former colleague turn to dust?”

“Go to hell,” Chuck told him bitterly. His knees nearly dissolved, but he did his best to keep his back straight. This couldn’t be real. No person could think like Liam.

“Why else would he have given you this?”

“Given me what?”

“This, of course.” Now that Liam had Chuck wedged between the table and his big body, he slid a thigh between the kid’s legs and pressed in, holding him in place. The move also freed up one hand, and Liam took advantage of the opportunity to reach into his own pocket. A moment later, the gold case of the pocket watch caught the firelight, sending a glimmer around the room. “Something so precious ... for something he considers even dearer to him. It will be a nice one to add to my collection, don’t you think?” It twirled from the chain, and Chuck couldn’t help but blink at it. “Just like you, boy. A honeyed addition, I’ll say.”

Chuck swallowed. He could hear his heart thudding. “He’ll be here to collect ... everything.”

“And when he does, we’ll put on a good show for him, won’t we?” Liam smiled. The pose, Chuck pressed up against the edge of the table, unable to fight back with his hands, changed the look in Liam’s eyes. The intent gaze said he knew exactly what this was doing to the kid. Chuck was soaked in sweat, hating himself for trembling. He tried to look away, but Liam put a hand on his jaw. “It’s good that you’re afraid. I like that ....”

Bearing against him, Liam slid his arm behind Chuck’s back, flattened his other palm on his chest and pressed his body down, down until his shoulders hit the tabletop.

“What – what are you doing?” Chuck had no choice but to stare up at him. Something sharp dug into his back, one of Liam’s utensils, a fork or a knife. How the hell could he reach it?

“Did you forget, brown eyes?” Liam asked. There was a pause where Chuck was certain the man checked him out again, maybe where his jeans now fluttered open in a V to reveal a sliver of his underwear. “We want to ensure your lover gets his ...money’s worth.” He was standing between Chuck’s knees. The pocket watch landed on the table next to the kid’s head, and Liam leaned down into him, stretching his torso over Chuck’s bare chest. “I told you ... you must be punished for your transgression today ....”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Chuck sputtered. “It was Bryce . He kidnapped me ... oh, God.” His blood froze as the other man’s lips found the side of his throat, nipped. Chuck squeezed his eyes closed. “Don’t ... you can’t touch me ....”

“No?” Liam trailed his lips into the hollow of the kid’s throat, down his sternum. While his mouth explored, his tongue flicking over one nipple, his fingers dug in at Chuck’s waist in that strong, urgent way Casey always held him right before - “How else will I have my dessert? Now hold still. I want to see if you taste as sweet as you look.”

“Get. Up! I’ll scream, I swear I will!”

When Chuck shoved at him with his hips, Liam tipped his head to smile. “Do you really think anyone in this house cares?” He lunged at him, lowering his head to pick up where he left off. One hand went to work, caressing his back, his lingering touch sliding down over the kid’s buttocks. “Scream your damn head off for all I care.”

Anticipation of the impending reaction simmered behind his eyes. He wanted it, he was eager for it. Not only did Liam show no signs of stopping, as he had in the bedroom the day before, his mouth moved lower, over his belly, licking a stripe across Chuck’s flat abs to tease the jut of a hip bone. Make a little circle with the tip of his tongue ....

“I told you, boy .... Doesn’t mean I can’t try you out a little first. The kiss was nice. Yesterday, when I held you down on the bed? And I told you I might be back for more. No secrets between us, right, kid?”

Chuck attempted to lurch up from the table and Liam caught his hips to hold him down. “Stop it. Stop. Please. This - this is the only way ... anyone would ever let you touch them, isn’t it? Ah.” Chuck hitched a breath, just as Liam paused to suck on his belly. “You’re hurting me.”

“The nicks and scratches are fine, but I want him to see other marks. That we had some fun, too, you and me.” He flicked his glance up at Chuck before his lips clamped down on the same spot, sucking until there was pain. “Stay still and take it, boy....”

Chuck pressed his lips together to hold in the choked noise in his throat. My God, he was being marked by Liam. Before he could buck up again, Liam had a hand on the open V of his jeans, yanked them down a little.

A moment later, Chuck felt the impossible happen. The drag of his tongue over the lowest piece of flesh on his abdomen. Hot, slippery, horrible. Lower.

Oh, God. Chuck slammed his eyes shut, a shudder running through him. Okay, Liam was going to do it, going to get down on his knees and suck him off, torture him, and Chuck was caught in the middle. No way could he survive the humiliation, the knot drawing tighter and tighter, but no way could he stop it –

Reaching into his pants, Liam gripped his cock as he knelt between Chuck’s legs. “I can see what else Johnnie saw in you, sweet meat,” he murmured. “Well hung. I guess what they say about hands is true, eh? You do have beautiful hands, boy.”

“You – you piece of shit.”

It was possibly the most unbearable moment of all his life as Liam slid a big hand up and down him, his palm testing the girth like he would measure the grip of a solid, weighty gun. “How is that, kid? Good?”

Chuck kicked and only fought harder, especially when he felt something warm and wet envelope him. His mouth, Liam had his mouth on him.

No, no, no ....

Trapped under the larger man, Chuck made a sobbing noise in his throat, snarled and shoved back against him. Cold fear made the trapped animal in him want to roar. Want to lash out -

“Get away from me.” Chuck looked up to give him a ferocious expression, his shoulders bunching in a knot, fists clenched under him. Feeling the kid’s body stiffen, Liam momentarily lifted up, lips wet with his saliva and no doubt ready to tease him again.

Now or never, Chuck, Casey’s voice told him.

Chuck sucked in a deep. Maybe he was stronger than he thought. In a move of more desperation than finesse, he kicked up both knees and thrust his kneecaps into Liam’s face. Or maybe it was the other man’s throat, but honestly, Chuck wasn’t being picky. One more time, he reared up with his knee -

Direct hit again.

A shockwave seemed to slam through the man. Liam tumbled back with a curse. Chuck instantly rolled off the table – actually, he fell off of it – but that didn’t matter, either. The impact jarred him, but it surprised Liam into loosening his hold, and the kid needed no more invitation than that.

“Don’t come near me!” Chuck rolled free, his feet scrambling under him. For once in his life, his tendency towards clumsiness avoided making an appearance, and his feet found purchase on the floor before he even realized he was standing. And then he was running, nearly tripping as he tried to gain traction on the rug. It didn’t matter where, just as long as it was away.

“You still do have that pluck in you, boy,” Liam muttered, but then Chuck heard the strangest thing. There was another curse, and it was followed by laughter rolling behind him.

The bastard was laughing. It made him shiver.

As a result of his blind break to freedom, Chuck found himself in the tiny kitchen. The door was in front of him. Here goes. With everything he had, he launched his body at it. The chilly night air swelled around him.

Too bad he hadn’t considered the armed minions hanging around. Something grabbed him from behind in a huge bear hug, pinning his arms to his side. Yeah, as if he could use them in the first place.

“Let go!” Chuck shouted, struggling. Man, he was saying that a lot tonight.

Again, he was out of luck. A fleeting look over his shoulder told him the one Casey called Rudy had him tight in his grasp.

“Hold still, little fucker,” the man grunted. “Where the hell do you think yer goin’?”

“Put him back in the bedroom,” Liam said mildly as he strolled up to the kitchen door, smoothing his hair back. When Chuck craned his neck just right, he could see the giant asshole smirk. “Oh. And do the boy a favor, will you?” Liam’s eyes drifted down. “Take care of his pants. They seemed to have slipped down during dinner.”

-x-

“Johnnie.” Sabine’s warm hand landed gently on the fingers gripping his gun, clenched. Casey had to think hard for half a second, and let his finger freeze. “He’s the only one who knows. No matter how badly you want to pull that trigger right now, you have to ask yourself what you’re going to do one minute from now when he’s bleeding on your boots and you’re no closer to that kid of yours.”

“This little pep talk can’t wait for better timing?” Casey said, leveling off between Bryce’s eyes.

“If you do it, how are you going to -”

“I saw Chuck today,” Bryce blurted before Casey could move his finger. His voice was thick yet calm for a man with one foot in the gates of the Maker. “I can tell you everything about him right now. We even ... spoke to one another. He knows you’re doing everything humanly possible to find him. To get him out of there.”

Something stirred in Casey other than the anger. Everything possible. He shouldn’t listen to him. But it was the only proof he might have that the kid was alive, if he could see past a lie. To ignore him now would be like ignoring Chuck if he stood right here in front of him, and the little bastard probably knew it.

“How, Bryce?” Casey asked, hard and sharp. “And why should I believe you?”

Sabine, with that damn uncanny sense that women were born with, kneeled next to Bryce and took his sleeve. “See the gun at your head? Think carefully before you try to feed us a lie. I know my friend well, so I’ll warn you. He’s out of patience.”

“Assuming he had any to start with,” Bryce noted.

“Good, so you do understand.” Sabine leaned in closer and pinned him with a no-bullshit stare. “If you did speak with Chuck, now would be the time to talk.”

“Ask him to put his gun away,” Bryce said, lifting his head.

“Not happening,” Casey told him. “If you have information ... you better be spitting it out.”

Recognizing the glowering stand-off, Sabine shifted to block Casey from Bryce’s view, assuming the role of ‘Good’ sheriff and letting Casey continue to play the role of ‘You Are A Dead Man’ sheriff. “How is he? What did you see?” She paused, getting ready to hit the nail on the head. “Have they ... hurt him?”

Hearing the question killed Casey, no other way to put it. His heart twisted. He shuffled to the side to get Bryce back in view. For some odd reason, Bryce’s mouth closed at first, various expressions crossing his face.

“Answer the question,” Casey said.

“No. I mean yes. I mean ... he’s hurt but not badly. There are ... some bruises, I guess.”

Casey lowered his gun. “Bruises,” he repeated slowly.

“Y-yes,” Bryce answered, maybe surprised he was still alive.

“Tell me if he’s okay. Anything ... broken?”

Bryce looked off to the side, knowing he would die if Casey even had a hint a fib was rolling off his tongue. “No, not that I could see. Well ... maybe his ribs. There are ... some contusions and purple marks there.” When Casey just stared, Bryce misinterpreted the look as bewilderment and dragged his hand down his shirt, beneath one pec to demonstrate. “Here ... under a man’s heart, you could say.”

“His ribs.” Casey shifted again, tilted his head in concentration. “How would you know they were there?”

“Hm?” Bryce’s eyebrows slid up as he looked between Sabine and Casey. “Oh – hey, nothing like that, okay? They took his clothes, that’s all.”

Casey was a breath away from stomping him. “Did you just say that’s all?”

“Well, I – ah –”

“Christ.” He gently pushed against Sabine’s arm and got down on his haunches next to her and Bryce. His gaze focused on the other man like a tip of a blade, a dire promise. The muzzle dug into the hollow of Bryce’s cheek. “You really think this is making it better.”

“Let me explain – ow.” Bryce tried to scoot back in the dirt while his hands scrabbled over the earth, like he would claw away at a hole to get away if he could. “Damnit. Except his pants. I mean - geez, stand down.”

Casey continued to eyeball him mutely for a moment, trying not to picture it. Yeah, of course Liam would take everything but that. First step, humiliation and awakening to your own vulnerability. After that ....

“What else did he say?” Casey demanded to know.

A crack of a twig distracted them. Morgan looked around sheepishly as everyone turned to him. When Casey rolled his eyes and refocused, he found Bryce already staring at him, those blue eyes sharp and cool. “He has faith, Casey,” he said. “I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s there. Faith in you.”

Casey clenched his fingers. Swallowed. If he closed his eyes, he could see Chuck looking at him. The last night at the farm. What he told him.

Jesus Christ. Angel’s wings, the kid had called it. Though they were battered and bruised, they waited for him, he said. Never had Casey seen the cold eyes of Redemption before then.

How could Casey give up the one chance he had? To be with the man who saw that much?

Maybe it was true. Maybe he needed to unwind his fist and look past all the shit swirling in front of him.

Maybe he had no way to get Chuck back without the help of the man sitting in the dirt.

Bryce had seen him, heard his voice.

Though it warred with his instincts – do it, end it, take it out – Casey did the only thing he could at that moment.

“Faith.” Casey’s voice had quieted to a low growl, and Bryce’s head snapped up to face his deadly mien. The larger man put his elbows on his knees and eyed him narrowly. Gradually, his finger loosened from the trigger.

“That last bit of faith is the only thing saving you right now, Larkin,” he said. “Tell me everything you saw and heard today, and don’t you dare leave anything out.”

-x-

Chuck tested the rope tied to the bedpost. Like the other times, it was a big mistake. The twisted bindings only dug deeper into his tender wrists. Okay, he was still not going anywhere soon.

After a minute, the kid rolled onto his back, one of the things he had the freedom to do. Hearing two low voices coming from somewhere behind the house, he cocked his head before realizing it wasn’t a rescue operation. For one, his boyfriend would hardly be laughing. Nor were there any gunshots, and if John Casey had snuck up and met someone outside, Chuck was fairly certain the greeting would include a barrage of bullets rather than sharing a joke of some kind.

He’d been awake for hours, staring at the underside of the low ceiling beams of the tiny bedroom where he’d been stashed again. “Look at the bright side,” Chuck told himself, deliberately wiggling his toes. “At least I can move one of my legs.”

His brain must really be in a dark place to consider the movement of his leg the “bright side” of this scenario.

As he looked down, he tried to pull on his left ankle, giving it a twist. This way, that way. Crap. Creepy Rudy, he decided, did know a thing or two about ropes. The end that was tied around his ankle led straight over to the bedpost at the bottom of the bed. And over his head, the twelve inches of slack in the rope trussed to his wrists and one of the top bedposts didn’t mean anything if he couldn’t reach the knot where it was tied off.

He had to pull anyway, just to try it. “Ow! Dang it,” Chuck immediately hissed, jerking his leg after the rope reminded him that was a bad idea by digging into his ankle. No way was he going to be able to reach the knot looped around the bedpost over his head. “Think, think, think .....”

Okay, so there was one option. Not a pretty one, either. Glancing down forlornly, Chuck guessed he could gnaw off his left leg. He had once seen a godforsaken muskrat in a trap which had done the very same thing.

Wait. Gnaw off his leg? “Oh, God,” he scolded himself. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

Undeniably, he was getting close to that kind of desperation, but dying of blood loss or leaving an ankle bone like a furry rodent in a steel-clawed trap sounded more frightening than he had anticipated. There had to be another way.

Inside his head, tuning out everything - the regular undercurrent now interrupted with misery and angst - all other ways only led to only one solution. A mad-as-hell, largely muscled, and armed to the teeth kind of solution.

So where the hell was he?!

Suitably chastising himself for being too pathetic to come up with something better, Chuck stretched his other leg out to the side. He was hampered by the lack of space, but if he had any chance of running again, he would need to be limber.

Limber. Oh, God.

Chuck closed his eyes and sagged back into the smelly blanket. The worst thing about being stuck here was that there was nothing to keep him busy but his thoughts. Why did he always do this to himself? He’d be better off imagining the twelve ways Casey could exact his revenge, but none of those visions seemed to take hold.

It was the vision after dinner, Liam’s darkly orchestrated demonstration. Come on. That had to be his plan from the start. Wanting to give him a freak show preview of what he would feel, being trapped, not able to move. The awful feeling of having his pants pulled down, and not able to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. Like he was doing now, helpless to stop it.

The purpose was obvious. Get Chuck thinking and reeling, put the venom inside his brain. Even after everything he’d been through, he had never felt so damn vulnerable as he did tonight. At least, not until the very end, when he had somehow, some way, found a reservoir of energy buried deep. Enough to dole out a few well-placed kicks to the head of that big bastard.

Maybe that was part of Liam’s plan, too. He never intended to do anything more tonight. (Though it was plenty bad enough, putting his mouth on - no, no, no). Hadn’t the man told him he was waiting for Casey? That he wanted Chuck fittingly shocked and sickened by being ... raped by him for the first time?

What was wrong with him? The kid should be relieved and thankful that it hadn’t happened.

Only he couldn’t be. Instead, there were flickering pictures of what could have been. Will be if nothing stopped him. Something strange seemed to be happening in his brain. Every terrifying image bogged down, became logy. He tried to roll over, telling himself he needed to sleep, but he couldn’t get the tremors to stop.

He didn’t hear the men outside finally end their card game, didn’t see the sliver of lantern light extinguish under the door. He just lay there for hours with his eyes glued to the blackness overhead –

Until he couldn’t swallow down the burning lump the size of a horseshoe in his throat. When he turned his head to the side, something leaked out of one corner of his eye, warm, wet, tickling the way down the side of his temple.

Well, all his life, he had been branded a myriad of different ways. To his father, he was a disappointment, an unfortunate container the Cipher. To his sister, he was smart, clever, handsome, and don’t you see what you are? To Bryce, Chuck was at first an awkward, gawky bookworm, isolated, later to be cast off. And from John Casey’s vantage, he was everything else that no one saw: brave, a beautiful kid, funny, never losing the ability to project innocence. For some reason Chuck couldn’t fathom, Casey looked at him like he was the weight of a precious heart to hold in his hand.

But holy God, never, ever had Chuck Bartowski been a cry baby.

Not until tonight.

Hell, hadn’t he earned it?

Guessing so, Chuck did the only thing he could. Without breathing, without making a sound, he finally gave in to the rough ache in his throat, let loose the stinging tears that had been threatening to spill for hours now.

It didn’t make any of it easier. If anything, it made it harder.

x-End Chapter Twelve Where the Road Ends-x-


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Thirteen

-x-

“I still say it’s too dangerous, Johnnie,” Sabine warned him. Twisting her head around to get a look at the darkened clearing, she leaned forward to poke one of the logs with a stick. A thousand orange sparks wafted up into the night sky. “Your safety isn’t worth the risk of walking into the meet-up like a sitting goose.”

“Duck.”

“Hm?” Across the campfire from him, she lifted her eyes, needing clarification.

“Duck,” Casey repeated and shook his head when she still looked confused. “If you’re going to tell me I’m big dumb ass, at least get it right. Sitting duck.”

Sabine shrugged and picked at a chicken bone. They were both lying on the ground near the fire, and apparently full bellies and weariness made it too hard to get up. “I may not know all of your silly sayings in English, mon ami, but in French, we have a saying as well: ‘Mieux vaut plier que rompre.’”

Casey made a ploy of acting as if the campfire needed another log. He tossed one with a bit too much force, log cracking, the racket telling her everything he didn’t want to say. He was angry and sick with worry and damned pissed. The last thing he needed was Sabine preaching to him. “Better to bend than to break," he muttered, settling back on the ground again. “Well, that sentiment definitely came from the Frogs.”

“You attempt at humor aside, congratulations,” she purred. “You did pick up a little Français in our time together. Perhaps you’ll consider what wiser men without vendettas advise. Take a step back and find a way not to get yourself killed tomorrow, oui?”

Casey stared straight ahead, letting her words run through his mind. “I didn’t know you had lost your faith in me.”

“Johnnie, there’s a difference between faith and suicide.”

“Here in America, we have another translation for that wise proverb de Français: Wanna hear it?”

“Non.”

“‘When the going gets tough, pick up your sticks, you little pansies, and run for your mama’s apron.’” Casey turned his head and spat. “Ever occur to you that your beloved country has an overabundance of dickless cowards roaming the streets?”

Sabine drew her brows down and tilted her head. Casey had to wonder if he had tested her sense of humor to its limit - until she picked up her tin cup of scotch and gave him a middle finger. “If I didn’t know you were yanking my ... reins, I’d have to kick your ass for that.”

“Reins? Not even close, Frenchie,” Casey told her smugly, unable to contain a smile. They had traded language lessons, but old adages were always trickiest. “We have another proverb I’m going to live by tomorrow.”

“And what is that?”

“Give the devil his due,” he said. Even though it was pitch black beyond the flickering light of the fire, he couldn’t help but look around before taking a drink from the canteen. Setting it down, he met her curious gaze. Gone was any joviality. Instead, he gave her the look of a very serious operative. “And tomorrow, I plan on doling out those payments. With interest.”

“Not just Liam, I suspect.” Sabine tipped her head towards the shack. “What about Bryce? And the man purported to be his father? Heh. Le connard.”

A good twenty yards away, only the faintest light reached the slave shanty where Bryce and the kid’s dad had sprawled out on the floor several hours ago. Chances were good that they were sound asleep by now, but Casey didn’t take that risk by speaking in anything louder than a low growl. “Those two will be part of the package deal ... if everything goes according to plan.”

“Big if, Johnnie,” she said. “The supposed meeting could be a hoax. All of it staged by your boss.”

“Really. Hadn’t thought about that. You’re saying I shouldn’t trust the man who has swiped the kid out from under my nose? Dangling him like a mouse? Threatened to kill both of us if I don’t give him the money?”

“Healthy cynicism has always suited you.” Sabine lifted her cup in a mock toast and took a not-so-mock swig. After gulping it down, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “But now you think he’ll believe you want to work out this situation privately with him – and the kid’s dad?”

“Hardly.”

“But you do have the money?”

Casey tried to avoid her by plucking at a loose flap of leather on his holster.

She lifted a brow.

“Yeah, I have it,” he admitted, going with the straight answer. He felt the instinctual tension with revealing so much. Faith in others was always hard to come by. Until Chuck. “But you said it yourself. He’s a damn skunk. So pardon the hell out of me if I opt not to trust anything that bastard proposes.”

“What will you do first? When you see Liam?”

As he considered the question, Casey stretched his feet towards the fire. His throat threatened to close up whenever he thought about it, so he did what any man would do, and just blanked out his wandering mind.

It never did work that way.

“Not a damn thing happens until he can confirm Chuck is safe,” Casey said. “Liam has to give me ... proof of life.”

“What if he won’t?” What if he’s dead?

Casey took a drink from his own tin cup, some decent scotch the Doctor happened to have in his bag, and swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere until I can see him.” Even better to be able to touch him, though Liam, the giant prick, might have something to say about that.

“What if you’re dead by then?” Yeah, the more carefully worded question.

Casey surveyed the deserted, grassy yard a third time and took a deep breath. “I’ve given this a hell of a lot more thought than that.”

“I would expect no less,” Sabine said. Examining Casey for a moment, the woman pushed the basket of food towards him with her feet. “The pretty one? Do you want me to kill him after he leads you there?”

“Kill him?” Casey turned his head to look over at her. “The doctor is the only one who’s been useful. Why the hell would I have you kill him?”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “Would it kill you to admit that Chuck’s friend –”

“Ex-friend.”

“- is quite pretty to look at?”

“Maybe I’ve been too busy imagining his body washed up in a creek around here to notice, I guess.”

“He’s striking, that’s all,” Sabine said, and she tapped his ankle with her boot. “Look who has surrounded himself with beautiful men. Including that boy of yours, I have to say.” She managed a faint smile for him. “I didn’t mean the doctor, of course. That one seems ... too good to be real. Bryce. Should I ... handle this messy situation once we’re assured he’s expendable?”

Casey followed her line of sight to the darkened shanty – not a movement or sound coming out of their latest additions to the party - and dragged his gaze back to meet her inquisitive eyes. “Nah,” he said. “Save that job for me.”

“Are you certain? Why?”

Damn, if he loved women, he would love that one.

Casey took a bite of the chicken leg and took his time chewing. “Because there are some things you just need to look in the eye when you kill them. That’s why.”

“I guess that confirms one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“They have a past, don’t they? Bryce ... and Chuck?”

It took Casey a minute to answer. He filled the time by throwing the bone in the fire, checked his gun, then reholstered it. “It was ... nothing like that. Let’s just say it wasn’t ... completely reciprocal.”

“Oh. I see why you want him dead.”

“Let’s just say I’m going to teach the asshat a little lesson in manners.”

“Never knew you to be a vengeful lover, but ... I guess you never fell ... hm.” She cut off there, leaning forward to tap his chest. “Interesting what that boy has done to you right here.”

“He’s not a boy anymore,” Casey said, jaw firming. Shit. That was what he chose to refute? Not what Chuck has done? His heart squeezed with the reality of dark areas he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone bare all in front of a damn woman. Even one as fine as Sabine. So he added in a low mutter, “And he hasn’t done anything to me, so get that look off your face.”

“Still can’t admit it? That you’re in lo -?”

“Any of that chicken left?” Casey asked. Ah, fuck. Again. He did not just imply he was a chicken shit.

“Yes, we seem to have an abundance of it,” Sabine said, smiling. She dithered with her cup for a moment, but eventually gave up with a shrug. “How did you keep the doctor from running to the authorities tonight? He seems like a straight arrow.”

“From what I can tell, he is.”

“But he knows his friend is in danger, he sees you with your guns ... another day has gone by ....”

“Well.” Casey took the chicken leg she passed off to him. “That’s why I told him if he fucks this up by going to the authorities, he can be the one to tell the kid’s big sister Chuck’s dead.” He was surprised he had to struggle to keep his voice level. Lately something nasty crawled into his throat every time he spoke about the possibility. “Besides, he was the only one I could trust to send into town for provisions – once it became obvious we’d need them since we were going to be stuck here all night. After Larkin screwed the pooch,” Casey added in a deathly tone.

“Tell his sister? Jesus, Johnnie. Seems rather heartless. Even for you.”

“Spare the compliments,” Casey said. “It’s nothing compared to what Liam would do to the kid if he even got a sniff of someone wearing a badge being brought into the situation.”

“You said her name is Ellie?” Sabine played with the end of her hair while she studied his face. “She’s at the doctor’s house?”

“Yes. Nervous as a virgin in a – well, never mind.” Casey took a drink, appreciating the way the burn hit his throat. “Half expected to see her in the buggy when the doctor pulled up. The woman seems just as stubborn as her brother. Overprotective of him, too.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Sabine noted to herself.

“Spare me that, too, sister.” After giving her a suitable stink-eye, Casey peered in the dark towards the wagon parked at the edge of the clearing. Since the shanty was about as big as four horse stalls, Casey figured that Devon and Morgan found it more comfortable to sleep in the back of the buggy. It was quiet in that direction and Casey guessed they were either sleeping or staring up in the sky wondering what the fuck they had gotten themselves into. Casey couldn’t blame them for that.

“Gotta give the doc some credit,” he went on after a moment. “I don’t know how he did it, but he was able to get her stay back at the house and wait.”

“Does she know her father is here?”

“No, and I’d prefer it to stay that way.”

Sabine’s brunette curls bounced just once when she gave him a begrudging nod. “The father is ... less protective.”

“Oh, we’re digging around the truth now.” Casey snorted. “Hell, the father is the reason Chuck ran in the first place. That man in there,” and he jutted his chin in the direction of the shanty, “has only one motivation to be here. Only one thing he cares about over all others. And it’s not his son’s safety.”

“I was standing there when they rode up. I heard bits of the conversation,” Sabine admitted, shaking her head. “His father wants ... the Cipher?”

Honestly, he’d rather kiss Larkin on that smarmy set of lips than to think any more of that damn strange book. So he gritted his teeth. “Keep your voice down.”

“But what does that mean?”

“It means,” Casey growled, “we have proof that being an asshole skips a generation.”

Sabine chuckled. “Let me guess. I can add that to the list of things you won’t talk about. Right behind your feelings for Chuck.”

“Only women have feelings,” Casey mumbled. He knew he was being ridiculous. But the thought of getting mushy while the kid was in danger just frustrated the hell out of him.

“Did you just call that kid stubborn?” Sabine gave him a pointed look, waiting for him to admit who was stubborn. Wisely, she gave up after a minute. “I heard Mr. Adams say he wanted to make a deal with you.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and thought about how to say it. The fire was dying, so it was harder to see the frown hardening her face. “He wants the thing badly, whatever it is, and thinks his son has it.”

Casey leaned back against a stump and crossed his ankles. “Let’s just say daddy would be wrong about that.”

Her eyes swept over his body language. “You have it,” Sabine observed, cocking her head at him.

The tiny smirk must’ve been conspicuous. “Makes a helluva pillow,” Casey confessed. He had kept it buried in his satchel and used it for that purpose ever since re-confiscating it. Minus one page stuffed in his pocket. “But I don’t think that’s what dear old dad has in mind for it.”

“Chuck gave it to you?”

Casey grunted. That day at the farm came back to him with one comment, just as all of it came back when he held Chuck a few nights ago. “A skinny, doe-eyed kid like that doesn’t look like he can put up a fight, but the night I relieved him of the ... Cipher, he was pissed as hell at me. Wouldn’t even look at me. Well, heh, at first ... but I had to convince him I was going to need it at one point or another.”

“Convince, huh?” Sabine took a long swig, and Casey was certain her lips had curled upward behind her cup. “Charming way to put it, oui? I can only imagine the kind of convincing –”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, woman,” Casey said, pretending to pick at a hangnail. Fuck. Busted.

“Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. Either you’re warm from the fire, or blushing, Mr. Casey.”

“I don’t blush,” he grumbled, finding it necessary to turn his head towards the woods. Hell, someone had to be on watch.

“I see that. Okay, so what is ... the Cipher?” she asked, dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she leaned in. “What makes a man like Mr. Adams do those things?”

What was the Cipher? It occurred to him for the millionth time since he saw the ground catch on fire that he had no answer for that. His foot nearly burned off once, he was soaked to the skin another time, and the kid made it sound as if those were just parlor tricks compared to what that thing in his head had the potential to do. If anyone dared to unlock it. Which the old man seemed hot to do.

Casey would like nothing more than to say it was just an old, leather-bound book. Why did he have to see something that didn’t mesh with reality? Life made some sense, at least, when everything he witnessed could be put in a logical, squared-off box.

But that manuscript made not a goddamn bit of sense, and that right there made it dangerous.

Hiding his misgivings, Casey gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head. “I can only tell you this: having it –” in his head? “has maneuvered the kid into a peculiar position.”

“Perilous is what you’re trying to say.”

Casey just nodded. “And as long as he has it, there’s always a risk that people are going to want to find him ... use him.” Use. The word elicited a wince when an echoing vision edged back into his brain. It took an act of heroics not to think of how he might be used this very minute. “The more people that know about it and the abilities it gives, the greater the risk. And even though it’s you, Sabine, and we know it would never be a problem ... no one needs to know.”

“Then tell me this, at least. Is that what the father will get in return? He joins you in your little meet-up tomorrow, Liam gets his money, you get your kid back, and everyone’s happy?”

“Realistically, no.”

Sabine put her tin plate down on the grass, crossing her arms and wearing a contemplative frown on her face again. “Why?”

“Liam won’t be happy until I’m dead ... until we both are,” he added in a deep rumble. “But knowing the man, there’s only one thing that comes close to his need for revenge.”

“What’s that?”

“Greed.” Casey’s blue eyes narrowed as he considered it. “I think he’ll play along if it means doubling his take, then turning on us and getting both me and the kid. He’ll think I let my guard down. Which means he’ll be more than eager to go for what he thinks is my blind spot.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

Like hell he had a blind spot, Casey thought, sniffing. “And the last time I checked, Liam had no problem putting an innocent man through hell to get to another man.”

“You mean ... using the kid to get to you.” Sabine nibbled her lower lip, concern evident on her face. “More than he already has, perhaps ..?”

“Jesus.” Casey kept his eyes on the fire, speaking as low as he could. “The dirty shit he’d put Chuck through ... while it happened ....” His hands slowly dropped to his sides, into the dirt. “Liam’s a sadistic bastard. Honestly ... killing Chuck would be a relief for the kid.” Finding a pebble he picked it up and tossed it. His brain was already at work, turning over everything, even through a bitter sort of anger. “He has plans. But before you ask, it’s nothing a lady needs to hear.”

“I won’t point out the obvious, since we both damn well know there isn’t a lady here ... however, I’ll trust your judgement.”

“Everything I’m telling you is for a reason.” Casey tossed another small rock, giving him an excuse to turn away from her studious eyes. “We have a chance to keep the kid safe if we play along with the dad’s proposal. Liam won’t expect it.”

“But my part in all of this –”

“Is the one thing that might get us all out alive.”

“Well, no pressure there,” Sabine said to herself.

Casey uncrossed his ankles and sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. “If you can’t handle it, you need to let me know right now. No hemming and hawing.”

“Miss Molly and I will be just fine,” she assured him, patting the butt of her rifle, “but thank you, John, for your confidence in us.”

“Get off your high horse. I had to ask, didn’t I? But do you honestly think I’d leave this to one of those numb nuts?” Casey ducked his head towards the wagon. “Need to go through this again?”

“Haven’t we covered this enough?” Sarcasm oozing, she lifted her hair from the side of her face. “Check, will you? Are my ears bleeding?”

“You wanna be serious?” Casey asked. “Because in another five minutes, I’ll scrap this op and come up with another.”

“You’re touchy when it comes to that kid, did you know that?”

“How many paces are in a mile?” Casey’s tone said what his words didn’t. Quit fucking around to try and get his mind off of the kid, and answer the damn question.

“Two thousand, okay? And before you ask –”

“Where are you going to leave the packages?”

“God,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Being friends with an obstinate asshole is completely overrated.”

Casey squinted at her. “Asshole comment aside, I’ll take it that you remember,” he said. “What will you do with them if they decide to follow?” Casey jerked his head towards the buggy.

“I’ll tie them up and leave them in the back of the wagon.”

“Got rope?”

“Oh, God,” Sabine said. “Not this again.”

“Getting harder to take these as yeses, woman.”

“Yes, John. I know where you keep the rope. Do you think Chuck minds if I use it?”

“Having a hard time keeping your mind out of the gutter, aren’t you?”

She gave him a secret smile. Damn. It immediately made Casey wonder how far the handcuff comment from the kid’s dad had wheedled into her mind.

Brushing it off, Casey dragged a hand through his stubble, picturing the fight they may put up. “Bryce might be trickier to stop,” he asserted. “What will you do if he tries something?”

“Already taken care of it.” Sabine moved a shoulder and looked towards the shanty. “I did him the favor of removing the bullets from his gun when I brought them the blankets.”

Casey flicked a surprised glance between her and the shack, biting back a grin. “And the dad?”

“It doesn’t sound as if he’ll have a problem coming with me if it means he’ll get his precious Cipher – whatever it is.”

“Then there’s the matter of Devon and Morgan.” Casey rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Sometimes it’s the ones you think won’t cause a problem that end up leaving a crap on the Sunday dinner table.”

Sabine smiled. It appeared that proverb wasn’t lost on her either, which was amazing since it was his own. “Eloquent, Johnnie,” she said, running a thumb over the blade of a knife she had plucked out of her coat. “The others will be taken care of as well. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt them.”

“You can hurt Larkin all you want. Up to killing him, of course.”

“I’ll save that for you,” Sabine promised coolly.

“Good, then we’re set.”

The woman went quiet. For a few seconds, she poked at one of the logs, sending more sparks flying, but Casey could see she was searching for the right words.

“Why do you think it will work?” she finally asked, her voice taking on a throaty quality he hadn’t heard tonight. Doubt oozing in.

“To be honest, I’m not,” Casey had to admit, his eyes staring blankly yet mesmerized by the fire, “but after spending fifteen years under my former boss’s tender graces – heh - I like to think I know what he expects. And more importantly in this case, what he doesn’t.”

“And what if Liam figures it out?” Sabine asked.

What if ... he failed? For hours, the pictures that had been elusive, formless, ruthlessly kicked a hole into his chest like a swamp filled with sucking mud.

Liam would make sure Casey was helpless, tied to a chair and too overpowered to stop the act, the hurting.

Abruptly, Casey stretched his legs out closer to the fire, sighing to hide the tension. He figured the only other way out might make Chuck hate him, even if it might save them. Nothing else he could do about that, so he took his last swallow and nodded. “Then we go to the last resort.”

-x-

Casey wound through a stand of pine trees until they reached a dip between two rolling hills. He guided Vic to the perimeter of a clearing, far enough off the road to not be seen, and turned the Paint horse around to face the other riders and the buggy.

“Larkin,” Casey called over to him, his eyes filled with a look that warned the punk he was not to be crossed. The bright sunshine and distance on the road gave him time to get a grip on his composure, to leave those thoughts last night where they belonged. It’s business now. No emotion. “Get your ass up here. Front of the line.”

Bryce exchanged a wary glance with Mr. Adams and steered his horse up to Casey’s. “I don’t know why you have to be so secretive. Aren’t we on the same team?”

“Yeah. Team Dead Man if you’re bullshitting me,” Casey said. “So this is the turn off? Sure this is where they took you yesterday? I’ll go another quarter mile up the road” - he leaned forward in the saddle to really eyeball him - “and I’ll find Liam there with his usual band of hooligans?”

Bryce looked around uncomfortably at the others and edged his horse ahead. Moment of truth, and the expression on his face said he knew this. If he didn’t tell them now, there was no reason to keep him alive. “Yes. That’s the direction. I remember it now,” Bryce confirmed, reluctant at best. “There are at least three other men with him, maybe more. He said he wants to work out this situation privately with you.”

“Yeah, I bet he does,” Casey mumbled. “Mind telling me what the hell I’m going to be walking into?”

Bryce hedged, eyes darting to the side. To his right, Sabine tugged her rifle off her back and laid it over her saddle across her legs. Since Bryce was a snake but not an idiot, the hint was not lost on him.

Worked like a charm.

“Well, um, for starters, if you take the road through the fields to the edge of the woods, you’ll see a sign.”

“Does it say ‘shoot him between the eyes if this is a lie’?” Casey paused there to let him think about it.

Bryce hunched his shoulders, his frown deepening at the image. Good. “Not exactly. It says ... Edgewood. It’s a –”

“Edgewood Plantation,” Devon said before he could finish. Instantly, every pair of eyes turned to him. The doctor glanced at Morgan and sat up taller on the buggy’s bench seat. “It’s been empty for years. Since the Union army cleaned it out. No one comes up this way anymore. Heck, after the War of the Northern Aggression -”

Casey snorted.

“- the family refused to sell the farm. Couldn’t really let go of losing two sons and everything else, I guess.”

“It’s not as empty as you think,” Bryce said, and he turned around to meet Casey’s eyes. “There. You have your answer.”

“Then why are we still here?” Chuck’s dad spoke up for the first time in an hour. There was no hiding that he had been suffering impatiently for miles along the ride, either not accustomed to traveling horseback, or more likely, to being relegated to flunky status. “We’re wasting time. We have the location now,” he flung out at Casey. “Why don’t you lead the way? Or if you’re afraid, get out my way –”

The clack and slide of Sabine’s rifle cocking stopped him cold. Jerking in the saddle, the older man shot a look in her direction. It startled him to be staring down a barrel, and immediately the scowl dissolved into a look of shock. His hand automatically went inside his vest.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Casey said, tilting an eyebrow. “That woman can hit a flea’s wing from fifty yards.”

“This is preposterous,” Adams said. “Explain to me what in hell is going on here.”

“What’s going on,” Casey told him, “is that your ass is staying put. Here, with her,” and he nodded at Sabine, “until she tells you it’s time to ride. Your job is to shut up and do precisely as she orders. She’ll tell you when and how high to jump. Did that about cover it, or do you need a hand-drawn diagram?

Adams sputtered with indignation. “But she’s a – a woman!”

“As of now, she’s your boss, and I expect her to be retreated as such. If you so much as feel the urge to fart, you need to ask permission.” Casey paused to grunt at the others. “Anyone else want to chime in?”

“Don’t move until the signal,” Morgan piped up in a hurry. “Um, got it.”

“Instructions are different for you, Moron. You’re to stay put entirely.”

“Dude, Casey. What am I - oh.” Morgan, seeing he was caught in Casey’s glare, stopped dead in his tracks. Out of ideas, he saluted and brought his hand down to discreetly wipe it on his coat. “Er, anything else?”

When Casey narrowed his eyes into a shut it, you dumb shit look, Morgan pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key. Only then did Casey turn to Bryce. “A final reminder, Larkin. Be clear on this. Your life is in the balance. If one more thing happens that I didn’t specifically tell you to do, there won’t be enough holes between here and Tulsa to bury all your separated body parts. Nod that you heard me.”

“The threatening asshole expression really suits you, Casey,” Bryce said. “Keep it around for when Chuck gets back, will you? What? Ow!”

The sudden appearance of the butt of Sabine’s rifle pressed up against his chin, shoved hard and making the pretty boy stare up at the sky, effectively shut him up. How the hell she had swung her horse around that quickly, Casey didn’t know, but he was reminded again to never piss her off.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to shoot him?” the woman asked. “I have a clean shot. Save you the bullets, eh, Johnnie?”

Bryce swallowed, nerves hopping, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I told you what you wanted to know.”

So that was what he thought would keep him alive. Casey bit down on the inside of his mouth to keep from pointing out the indisputable fact that they were in today’s mess because of him.

“Yeah, we’ll see what that is going to get you.” With Bryce still with a gun to his head, Casey nodded and angled his horse around to Devon and Morgan. They were the least of his worries, but that didn’t mean the two couldn’t find trouble if they looked hard enough. “I meant it when I said stay put. There’s nothing you can help with from here on out.”

“Look,” Devon said, not able to stay quiet any longer, “if it’s too dangerous, you shouldn’t be going in like this by yourself.”

“Thanks for the advice, doc.” Casey rolled his eyes with some derision and headed Vic over to the path. Something made him turn around, and he stopped in front of the young doctor seated on the wagon’s bench. When he had his attention, Casey eased down a bit in the saddle to look him closer in the eyes. “You. Be ready. There’s a chance the ki – my ... partner is going to need you when I bring him back.”

Devon gave a fleeting glimpse down to his worn black bag at his feet. His face darkened, not the usual look for the happy-go-lucky doctor, so Casey was certain he got the message. “Then do your best to get him here.”

-x-

The abandoned plantation house Liam had chosen was one known by the locals to be owned by a family who suffered mind-numbing losses. It seems two sons never returned home after the War Between the States, the doctor had explained. By coincidence, it appeared the dilapidated structure, with its peeling whitewashed porch pillars and broken windows, was a suitable place for Liam to hole up. Pain and heartbreak still lived here, under the broken eaves and torn away shingles, Casey guessed. He also wryly suspected his boss’s intention was for him to be anxious about the dark cover the overgrown woods provided, or the black hole in front that once held a carved door.

Bracing himself for any sudden moves or, more likely, an ambush, Casey emerged from the cover of woods onto the path that lead up to the front porch.

He reminded himself that he was being watched by men he couldn’t yet see through the window openings, which was why he approached slowly and rode straight, eyes ahead. It was hardly the first time he was surrounded by trouble. He doubted it would be the last.

“Easy, Vic,” Casey said, whispering as his eyes skimmed the overgrown yard. By nature, the horse was never the jumpy sort, the reason he had selected the young filly, but something made her ears twitch forward. As they reached the halfway point to the porch, the muscles in her neck stiffened and she raised her head.

“Finally found your way, asshole?” Rudy’s voice dragged his attention to one end of the long porch. Just as Casey squinted in that direction, the greasy twit emerged from behind one of the pillars. His gun was aimed at Casey’s head. “Been waitin’ for you,” he snickered. “Ever since we caught you with yer pants down at the kid’s sorry excuse for a farm.”

Hell, he had thought with his dick that morning, okay? Did fucking everyone have to bring it up?

Turning a deaf ear on the insinuation, Casey’s hand immediately went for his gun, knowing Rudy probably had strict orders not to kill him. No way was Liam going to let one of his stooges take that privilege away from him.

“Thought I smelled something mangy that had died,” Casey countered. Aiming his Colt at Rudy’s head, he smirked and shifted his grip on his gun so that Rudy could see he was a hairsbreadth away from pulling the trigger. “Mind standing downwind? Vic’s got sensitivity to things that smell like shit.”

“Yeah, yer always the smart one, aren’t ya?” To Casey’s amusement, the other man glared at both him and the horse. “Get down off that animal,” Rudy ordered, motioning with the barrel. “While yer at it, put the gun away, too. No one’s gonna shoot you just yet, Johnnie.” An oily smile slid onto his face at the ‘not yet.’

“You won’t be as lucky,” Casey told him, throwing a leg over the saddle and hopping down. He stepped forward, his boots crunching in the dirt. “Can’t promise anything. I might just be too tempted to end your miserable existence in the next few minutes or so.”

“Still have hard feelings about taking your little prize a few nights ago, Johnnie?” Rudy’s slick grin broadened. “Really sorry that boy of yours couldn’t put up a better fight. Picking him up that night was like stealing a strawberry tart from granny’s window ledge. Easy as pie.” He paused to laugh at his own lame-ass joke. “Humph. Bet he’s just as sweet, too. Isn’t that right?”

Understanding he was being goaded, Casey’s expression remained stoic, unreadable. Emotions would only crank him sideways, dangerously so, no matter how badly he wanted to blast Rudy’s head into kibble-sized bits.

Instead, his eyes settled, colder than a glacier, on Rudy’s face. “Where’s Liam?”

“Think that’ll make it all better, Johnnie? You’ll get to see your boy?” Rudy flashed the mouthful of brown teeth again and gradually took the steps down to the yard, stopping in front of Casey. “Don’t worry, big man. We didn’t have to hurt him too badly, like I said before, eh? Oh, I can’t promise he doesn’t have a few more bruises or marks since our little chat back in the workshop. But you had to expect some rough handling with something that spunky. Got himself in a mite bit of trouble yesterday, your boy did.” Rudy shrugged like it was nothing. “Needed to be taught a few lessons along the way.”

Casey made no reply. He merely checked the chamber of his gun and holstered it, his movements mechanical, and stepped past the man up to the doorway. “If you’re done wasting my time, take me to your boss. Those are your orders, aren’t they?”

Rudy gave him a dirty look and went around him to lead the way. “Get inside,” he ordered, nudging his shoulder with the gun. “That way.”

They had crossed over the threshold to a darkened wide entrance, a hallway that had once been well-lit and opulent. Quickly assessing, Casey could see the oak beams over the doorways had been damaged by scavengers and years of neglect, he figured. A few holes in the roof obviously had let rain pour through to the pine floors, turning them warped and black in patches. The only light came from shattered windows, the shards of glass pooled on the floor glinting and winking in the slanted sunbeam.

No wonder Liam was attracted to this place. No one in their right mind would come out here even in broad daylight. But where the hell was the Chairman of Black Rock?

It was as if the devil himself was listening to his thoughts.

“I’ve been looking for you .... For a long time, boyo,” a voice emitted from the darkened room to the right.

Casey froze in his steps, turned his gaze towards the interior of the spacious room, once a parlor or study. Liam was leaning against a desk in the shadows, next to a fluttering curtain. Casey might’ve missed him, except he was smoking and the faint glow of the cigarette tip drew his attention.

Now Casey slanted around and tucked one hand in his holster, eye to eye with the man he wanted dead more than any other living being.

And considering Bryce Larking was still crawling on his snake belly across the earth, that was saying a hell of a lot.

“Cut the crap, Liam,” Casey said. He lowered his hand to touch the Colt’s grip, and started to walk towards the silhouette leaning against a desk. “We both know why I’m here, so let’s get to it. Where’ve you stashed the kid?”

x-End Chapter Thirteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Fourteen

-x-

“Cut the crap, Liam,” Casey said. He lowered his hand to touch the Colt’s grip, and started to walk towards the silhouette leaning against a desk. “We both know why I’m here, so let’s get to it. Where’ve you stashed the kid?”

“Aw, don’t be that way, Johnnie. After all this time, shouldn’t you and I get ... caught up again?” Liam O’Doherty smiled, nodded at Casey to come closer. “I missed you, boyo. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Where have you been ... all this time? Or more importantly, why did you go? Hm?”

As if he wasn’t holding the reason why.

A moment was required for Casey to get a good look at the man he had avoided for months. His fastidious ex-boss was in his usual natty attire that screamed gentleman instead of cold-school killer. Heaven forbid Liam got blood on his own hands, or worse, a crisp wool suit. He had people for that. Today he wore a dark brown cutaway jacket and vest, emphasizing his broad shoulders, the top few buttons open. The tin of cigarettes lay open on the desk, half empty, an ashtray full. A decanter of scotch whiskey and two glasses sat companionably together.

“I decided to exit from Black Rock,” Casey said, “and you decided I shouldn’t. So I funded my transition strategy and left anyway. There. We’re all caught up.” Now where the fuck is Chuck?

Liam eyeballed him for a long time. As Casey strolled in another step, his ex-boss lifted one of the glasses to his mouth in an impressive swallow, never taking his gaze from Casey. The eyes glittered in the darkness, and Casey had the sudden impression he’d walked into the den of a treacherous, restless grizzly bear. “It was nice of your boy to let himself be photographed. I’m sure you saw it as well. Delicious little picture of him ... next to his flying machine? Saved me the trouble of looking any longer.”

Great. Glad modern daguerreotypes and unmistakable goofy hair were able to help out.

“Git in there.” Rudy continued to prod him with the muzzle of his gun until the larger man crossed into the parlor. As Casey took a few steps towards Liam, he deliberately hooked his thumbs in his pockets, curling his fingers loosely on the front of the denim. Liam’s eyes centered where Casey intended, on the Colt in his holster, then ran up his body with a greedy look gripping his features, causing prickles of ice to move across Casey’s skin.

“Time’s been good to you, Johnnie,” Liam said, finally his dark eyes fastening on his face. “Being on the run didn’t change you a bit. Impressive. But I’m not surprised. I bet everything about you is still big and as hard as a rock.”

Sometime during the open perusal that followed, Casey knew he meant it that way.

“Your boy,” Liam went on in a smoky whisper, “he must like that show of muscles you have. I bet he ... traces his fingers over the curves at night. Does he like it ... when you hold him down?”

And the Chairman always knew to hit quickly, sensed where to kick a man.

“Stop fucking around,” Casey bit out, returning the hard look.

“Ah, another thing about you. Always rough and to the point,” Liam replied, brushing one hand down his vest and still smiling at Casey. “Well, I hope I didn’t upset you. Or interrupt the plans you had for him.”

“You’re empty-handed.”

“You are as well, I see,” Liam told him. “There was a time you could easily – and willingly – follow my instructions. What happened, John? Do you know I almost caught up to you in Chicago? According to the desk clerk, a man fitting your description had left a mere two hours earlier.” His ex-boss gestured with the lit cigarette around the room. “All of this unpleasantness could’ve been avoided.”

The close call in the city was probably the least surprising thing about this whole situation. Chicago had been complicated and messy.

“Why don’t you show him what you lifted off the kid?” Rudy asked with undisguised glee. Sidling around Casey, the greasy outlaw continued to point his gun at him, maybe waiting for Casey to reach for his. But Casey lost track of the gun and everything else when his eyes settled on the desk. Between the two men was his gold pocket watch, lying there next to the newspaper clipping with Chuck’s photograph, obviously placed there for a reminder to Casey.

“I suppose,” Liam went on, inspecting the tip of his cigarette idly before tapping the ashes, “that I should be insulted that it took something as insignificant as one skinny boy to sway you away from me. But it’s flattering on a different level, the way you managed to dodge me. It means that my tutelage, all those years, stuck with you. I’m so pleased, Johnnie. No hard feelings that I ultimately bested you?”

Casey tightened his lips, signaling any other question would not be answered. Why could he not pick up any other noises in the house? Was the kid able to hear him?

His lack of reaction made Liam frown. “John Casey,” he said. “My brightest pupil. My gravest mistake. One that I plan on rectifying immediately.”

“Where’s the package?” Casey glanced around the room that was once the plantation’s parlor or library now with only a few musty books on a row of otherwise dusty, empty shelves. “Or was your plan to talk my ear off first?”

“And that hasn’t changed either, I see,” Liam said. “You were always a man of actions rather than words. So let’s get down to business, shall we? It’s time for us to have our day of reckoning, isn’t it, boyo?”

“You can start by shoving the word boy up your ass. That’s not what I am.”

Liam smirked. “What would you prefer me to call you, then? You’ve always had many names, correct? Mr. Gould, the representative from Union Pacific, Mr. Krause, a lawyer for Black Rock, but those weren’t the most ... profitable of your masquerades, were they? No, I think the one that served your ultimate purpose was when you assumed the name of Liam O’ Doherty.”

Casey felt the room go still. His boss had figured out the game, the final masquerade that was never to be breached. Appropriating Liam’s identity. The quiet extortion from his bank accounts. The fact that the Chairman of Black Rock knew exactly how he did it ... Casey’s cover had, un-shockingly, been blown.

“Do you need evidence of further names?” Liam asked, his eyes never leaving Casey’s, and Casey’s heart hammered under his shirt. “Here are a few of my favorites you’ve assumed. How about ... ‘partner,’ ‘boyfriend,’” he emphasized carefully, “though finally and most importantly to you, I suppose ‘lover’ of a certain young man. I myself find that the most crucial ... or let’s say, exploitable name you’ve assumed.”

“I’m sure this has a point eventually,” Casey heard himself say. He slipped his hat off his head and tossed it on the desk next to the pocket watch. Was it strange that Liam hadn’t dragged the kid in front of him by now? Was he ... hurt? Hell, was he even here? “Because I thought one of us would’ve been dead by now.”

The skin around Liam’s mouth firmed, shifting into something uglier, more threatening. “You went off script when you didn’t come here yesterday - alone -according to my instructions,” he said. He looked over at Rudy, still holding the gun aimed at Casey’s heart. “You sent that pretty boy instead. What do you think I should do about that?

“You went off script when you grabbed a kid who has nothing to do with what happened to your money.” The slightest flinch of Liam’s cheek at the mention of his missing assets was Goddamn gratifying, too.

“It seems we have a problem, then, don’t we, boyo?” Wiping a hand down his jacket, Liam picked up the cigarette case and tipped his head towards Rudy. “Search him.”

“Proof of life, Liam,” Casey said. With the order came a gun, one he had snapped out of his holster before Rudy could lay one hand on him. The icily cold barrel pressed to the side of Rudy’s neck. Even though the twit had his gun still pointed at Casey, there was no doubt who would be dead first. “I want to see him.”

“As long as you’re holding a weapon, we’re at a standstill, I’m afraid.” Liam smiled, picking up the pocket watch. “Let the idiot go, hand over your weapons - and maybe we can bargain.”

Of course, Liam would rob him of everything first. The man didn’t know how to play without a stacked deck. But face it. It’d be the only way he’d be allowed to see Chuck. “You break your word, and I’ll kill you all,” Casey muttered.

“Same goes, boyo. After all, you do realize we all want to see you dead.” Liam, satisfied that he had momentarily quelled their new hostage, focused on Rudy. “Do it. Thoroughly. I don’t want to be surprised by a knife in my back later.”

Being forced to give up his guns didn’t mean Casey was going to make it simple for Rudy. He waited one long, humming eternity before he reluctantly lowered his gun – but not without jamming it against his neck one more time.

Rudy immediately put a prudent step between them. “Put your arms up,” he ordered, peeved at being taken off-guard. “I’d hate to have to shoot you before the fun begins.”

Casey rolled his eyes and wrenched his arm away when Rudy had the audacity to try and lift it for him. Bit by bit, he did obey, however, raising his arms out to the side and giving access to his holster and pockets.

“Too bad about Chicago,” Casey said. He forced himself to take only a disinterested look at his knife he had wedged in his belt, now being tugged out by a sneering Rudy. “When you got off the train that night, you could barely contain your excitement at being so close. I could see it in your face.”

“You were there,” Liam suggested. When Casey simply looked back at him, Liam chuckled and shook his head. “Of course you were. One of your disguises.” His smile became grim. “I taught you well.”

Casey shrugged and turned to see Rudy testing the blade of Casey’s knife with his thumb. “Hey. No fingerprints when I get them back,” he said. “I will be taking inventory. Oh, yeah. Wait a minute. You’ll be dead.”

“Shut yer mouth.” Flourishing the knife, Rudy gave Casey a little shove. “Yeah, that’s a keeper.”

A hand came to Casey’s buckle and unfastened the heavy holster. Having his weapons touched by anyone, especially that dirty-handed prick, pissed him off to no end. And Liam knew this, obviously. For that reason, Casey gave no visible evidence to the gutless bastard studying him while the other swept his hands down one pant leg and up, awfully close to a place reserved for an entirely different set of hands. Deft and skillful hands, not anything like those stubby fingers now sweeping over his -

“Watch it,” Casey said between clenched teeth.

“Keep your hands up,” the filthy little man instructed. He continued to pat Casey down, revealing an arsenal of weapons that rivaled the armaments of an entire platoon when he was a greenhorn fighting the greyback Rebs. The head-to-toe sweep ended up relieving him of the eight-inch Bowie knife in his boot and pretty much everything in between. “That’s it.” Making a point of stuffing the knife in his own boot and the Colt behind his back, Rudy turned a tobacco-brown grin on him. “He’s just an unarmed, helpless asshole now.”

“My dear Rudy,” Liam said, twirling the pocket watch in his fingers. “Never make the mistake of underestimating our Johnnie.” Once Casey lowered his arms, there was no hemming and hawing about what came next. He knew what came next. Rudy simply tossed Liam one of Casey’s guns, and Liam let the watch clatter to the table.

It freed up both his hands to point the gun at Casey’s forehead.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” Liam divulged quietly, shifting his fingers on the ivory-handled grip. “Wondering how it would look ... how it would feel to see you with a gun to your head.” His ex-boss had gone very still as he studied him and sighed. “Something is ... missing. Luckily, I have plans to make it much better.” He wet his lips. “For one of us.”

“The kid. I want proof of life.” At the mention of him, Casey’s voice had gotten throaty. Later he could hate himself for giving away so much. “No deal until then.”

Liam pushed off the desk to stand straight, every muscle rigid down the arm that held the gun. “Where the fuck is my money?”

“Why don’t you pull the trigger,” Casey asked, glancing down at the barrel, “and spend the rest of your life wondering.”

Liam strode up to him, swiftly, but without his usual calculated grace. “I should do it.” His anger, which had been simmering below the surface, rose like the unsteady movements of a lumbering wolf. Up close now, Casey could see a cleaned but unstitched slash over one cheek, making him look far more dangerous. “You have no idea what you took from me, Johnnie-boy,” he whispered. “No idea at all.”

“I told you what I want.” Pulling off one of his finer defiant looks, Casey folded his arms over his shirt, making the cotton stretch at his shoulders. “Until then, we’ll stay here and have a pissing match.”

Liam’s face hardened further. Myriad emotions, hatred and betrayal, chased each other briefly through his eyes. But being the great player, Liam O’ Doherty eventually tamped all of them down. At last, at long last, he lowered the gun and shoved it back under his belt. “Go get the kid,” he commanded Rudy without breaking eye contact. “If he puts up another fight, drag him by his damn hair if you have to. I’ve found it makes a lovely handle when he digs his heels in.”

If he thought he would get a reaction, he was dead wrong. Casey stared back aloofly. Only behind his eyes, he took solace in picturing what Liam’s temple would look like with his Bowie knife embedded there. See? All better.

“You know what? I found a slug to the gut works purdy well, too,” Rudy said, giving one last sneer at Casey before leaving. The hallway Rudy darted down led to the back of the house. Casey felt the slither of dread rise, but he had no choice but to wait there, the soles of his boots creaking on one of the floorboards as he straightened and planted his feet. This could be a game. The kid could already be dead. A hundred other dangers could appear around the corner.

“I wouldn’t try anything, Johnnie,” Liam said, and Casey realized he had picked up the pocket watch again. “I want you whole for now, but you might remember, I never play nice. I’d hate to have to hurt your boy at this point. Well. More, anyway.”

“If you wanted to use someone for a punching bag, you would’ve been wise to pick the one I sent here yesterday.”

Liam merely smiled at him. “Too pretty for you, wasn’t he?”

Bryce was too damn pretty to live, but Casey had plans on that front. Before he could reply, Casey could hear a stifled noise coming from the back of the house. When a minute passed, he decided he’d waited long enough. It was an interesting study to play out the charade, but every second brought doubt. By the time he had his fingers near the knife Rudy missed, strapped on the underside of his forearm, he was sweating.

“Stohmm.” The muffled sound and the scuff of boots and feet scratching loudly against the floor stopped him cold. Moving his attention towards the wide doorway of the parlor, he heard the scrabbling noise elevate to a scuffle. Most interesting to Casey was that Rudy’s voice mingled with someone trying to swear properly but hampered by a gag.

Casey soon found out the source of the racket. More sounds of a quick tussle followed by Rudy’s curse from the hallway told him it wasn’t going as easy as the little filcher planned. The hostage’s rebellion ended when the smaller man appeared first from around the corner, dragging a long, lean body that obviously didn’t want to go that way.

Casey held his breath.

And there Chuck was.

Shoulders hunched, he was being marched the rest of the way from the corridor, taken over the threshold, and pushed over to stand next to an empty bookcase in the shadows. The captive was absolutely without a clue as to what was going on. The kid seemed to have one goal, which was to make sure Rudy’s task was as difficult as possible. During the march, he dragged his feet or gave the runt a clumsy swing of an elbow to the ribs. He really was trying.

Any other time, Casey would take great pleasure out of the kid showing that kind of spunk. Now was not that time. Chuck was still at the other end of the room and too far away to be clearly illuminated by the sunlight sifting through one window, but Casey could see just enough. Relief, sharp and flooding his body, made Casey feel as if his knees had been replaced by water.

“Shut up,” the smaller man said. The one time Chuck got in a lucky dig, Rudy treaded on his bare foot and punched him in the stomach.

Relief fled; the urge to kill Rudy and the guilt that he had put the kid here stepped in to take its place.

“Chuck,” Casey murmured. He swallowed and moved forward. With every step, he could see his boyish face in the dimness clearer. “Just... stop. You’re not gonna win that one.”

The words, the voice, wrapped around him like a rope. Chuck abruptly froze in the act of struggling. Rudy had tried to shove his head down to keep him from noticing the visitor, but as soon as Casey spoke, the kid’s gaze shot up in his direction.

“Not alone in this anymore, kid.” Casey tortured himself by noticing the line of purple bruises along his ribs. “Gonna be okay.”

With any other man stuck wearing a gag over half his face, emotions might be hidden or clouded by the covering. Well, the kid never did fall into that category. His eyes always spoke books straight from his heart and brain, no sentiment left unturned. Casey found this mostly beneficial yet at times problematic.

Like the times those hurt brown eyes could put a spike through his chest.

Now, as Chuck’s eyes registered Casey’s presence, the kid let out a noise somewhere between a choked sob and a yell, both hands twisting to get his wrists out of the bindings in front of him. To do God knows what. After all this, maybe he wanted to gut punch Casey for his efforts.

“That what you wanted to see, Johnnie?” Rudy asked, obviously enjoying the little reunion. “See? He hasn’t been knocked up too badly.”

The insinuation along with the twisting drew Casey’s attention down to Chuck’s hands, making him watch as the kid once again tried to tug and wriggle to free himself. There was no way to look objectively at the rope burns that left thin bracelets of blood around each wrist.

“I should’ve shot you a minute ago,” Casey muttered to Rudy as the smaller man yanked on the kid’s arms to get him to stop squirming – none too gently. But then, Chuck had been expecting that, it seemed. He let out a noise and gave Rudy a kick on the shin.

“Little bastard.” Rudy turned Chuck so that he was facing Casey, deliberately cuffing him upside the head and making the bound man stumble. “Say hello to your boyfriend, twerp. This is the last time you’ll be seeing the likes of that turncoat.”

Chuck blinked at him and his breath seemed to catch behind the rag in his mouth. After another jerk to try and shake Rudy’s grip from his shoulder, Chuck decided he really had no choice, and could do nothing but breathe displeasure through his nose and shoot a meaningful glare at Rudy until he got a dramatic eye-roll. Did the kid really think that would get him access to his hands?

Apparently, the two had been at their match of ‘club the puppy’ for the past few days, if the bruises across Chuck’s shirtless torso, his jaw, and scrapes along his cheeks were any kind of indication.

Casey counted each one and tucked it back in his mind. Tenfold payment was coming, he promised himself. Tenfold.

“Something bothering you, Johnnie?” Rudy grinned at the fact Casey’s eyes had darkened as he assessed his boyfriend. “You can see, he needs a good beatin’ a few times a day if you want his cooperation,” the man seemed happy to point out. “Maybe you didn’t know how to handle him, so I guess I did you a favor.”

Damn that little asshole was gonna die today.

Casey grunted in a way that managed to perfectly convey he was only here on business. Only underneath, could a very finely tuned ear hear the bullets. “Turd,” Casey said, moving in closer to loom over the smaller man. “Wanna take on someone with less rope to hold them back?” To Chuck, he ordered, “Kid, I know you want to wallop him, but you have to give it a rest. Got it?”

“Mmph!”

That was either okay or fuck you, asshole. Hard to tell, so Casey went with the first one. “Gan dul chun ligean aon rud eile a tharlóidh do duit,” Casey replied as softly as he could.

Liam’s brows slowly rose. Oh, hell. Of course, he heard. Of course, he understood, and had to drip some gasoline into the wound. “You think you can keep him safe now?” Though the shadows concealed his eyes, Casey could feel the intensity of his focus. “Why are you so sure, I wonder?”

“’Cause this isn’t gonna stop until we get our money.” Rudy nudged Chuck with an elbow, aiming for the ribs. “Besides, look at Mr. High and Mighty. You don’t even have a gun anymore.”

“I still have my hands, don’t I?” Casey asked.

“So?”

He snorted and leaned in to whisper precisely to Rudy, “Ever see what’s under a man’s neck when you rip his head off? Heh. Damndest number of little squiggly veins you ever did see. Except you wouldn’t exactly be seeing them by then.” Casey inclined his head and arched one brow. “Would you?”

Suitably cowed, Rudy stopped yanking on Chuck’s wrists and backed up a step. It didn’t keep him from cursing under his breath, but he was careful to keep his opinions to himself.

“One more provision and you can see your money.” Casey shifted his attention back to Liam. Training and years of holding it in warned him to keep his eyes off the kid for now. The darkened bruises would only dredge up things that would compel him to punch holes through the other men. “I get to talk to him. Alone, before we go anywhere,” he demanded of his ex-boss. “That’s my condition, not negotiable, or the money stays hidden where it is to rot for the next two centuries or so.”

All this time, he had been waiting for Liam to chime in, but the man had leaned back on the desk and leisurely took a drink of the scotch. “You have the right to stipulations, Johnnie-boy?” he asked after taking a swig. “Is that what you think?”

One second was all it took. Casey could see him tense up for a heartbeat, neck muscles popping. With spontaneous polish, Liam struck like a snake. Just a blur of movement and the glint of metal, and suddenly a gun that came from under his belt was now jammed into Chuck’s neck, hard.

The kid all but whimpered at first, until he pressed his lips together before any more unmanly sounds escaped. “Come here, boy.” Liam’s voice was lined with steel as he spun Chuck around to face Casey. His free hand, the one without Casey’s very own gun Rudy had given him, wrapped around Chuck’s neck, and being taller than even the kid, Liam’s smirk was clearly visible over his shoulder. “Do you have any idea how easy this would be? One pull of the trigger ... and boom.”

“Mmph!” Chuck’s eyes blew wide.

“How would that make you feel, laddie,” Liam continued, ignoring Chuck’s new attempt to wrestle himself lose. “Having to watch your boy die, right now ... here in this room. His blood on the floor, on your clothes. And you have to ask yourself this: is it really on your hands?”

It wasn’t easy, frankly it was killing him, but Casey refused to engage. Rather, he stared back at him, implacable with fists balled up, waiting for Liam’s agreement. “I get to talk to him,” Casey repeated stiffly, “or we go no further. No negotiations. The money will be lost for good.”

For a long moment, Liam didn’t say anything. Oh, but Casey knew that look. And right now, Liam was utterly pissed-off at the attempt to be backed into a corner. His face seethed like flames. Testing the man had the tendency to blow back, yet Casey had to bet this was one time it wouldn’t. It was an eight hundred thousand dollar gamble. And losing the wager would only spell more trouble for one of the hostages. Chances were, the one with the gun to his head.

“I should kill both of you right now,” Liam said.

“I won’t give you a dime,” Casey replied, lifting a shoulder.

“Is that your game, Johnnie?” Liam’s arm jerked, increasing the chokehold around the kid’s neck. Chuck turned red almost immediately, grunting and struggling. Twisting and pulling on his wrists or trying to dislodge him didn’t do a bit of good. Chuck’s eyes bulged, veins popped out along his pale neck. His face contorted into an awful grimace.

Casey rediscovered things he’d forgotten since the kid burst into his life like a meteor into a black space. He could be non-committal, he could be impassive when he had to be, he could still resolve himself not to move during a test of wills -

Steady, don’t ... don’t ...

Chuck’s face was turning purple. His eyelids fluttered.

Casey should just ride it out. He should just ....

Jesus. Stop it. He has to stop. Liam won’t sacrifice his bait now. He wants the kid to perish on the altar -

Goddamnit -

Chuck staggered back, but Liam didn’t let him fall.

That was it. Reach for the knife –

“Getting hard to breathe, boy? Or should I ask your lover that question?” Liam’s inner demons must’ve played the same message in his ear, however. Killing the kid now was not nearly as much fun. So as the man’s eyes danced with playfulness, his grip loosened. The chokehold was gone. Next to him, the kid swayed a little as the blood rushed out of his face. In an instant, Chuck sucked in a breath around the gag and tried to kick out.

Chuck. His resilient fighter. That kick, futile as it was, pumped Casey with more relief.

“Oh, Johnnie. Calling my bluff now?” A slow smile crossed Liam’s face. “Your heart’s beating through your chest, isn’t it? I can hear it. Thud, thud, thud. You’re wondering what else I’ve done. Maybe what he’s done for me?” He paused and bit down on his lip, letting Casey mull it over. “No worries, Johnnie. I’ve saved him for us – well, for me. Just as I promised. Tonight. Oh, but don’t be angry. Of course, you’ll be invited ....”

“In hell,” Casey gritted between his teeth.

“Always tough, aren’t you?” He turned Chuck to point him at Casey. The kid stiffened, eyes blazing at his boyfriend. Slowly, Liam loosened his arms from Chuck’s neck, letting his hands drift tenderly down the kid’s bare and sweat-streaked chest. “That’s a good boy,” Liam whispered against Chuck’s hair. As Liam fondled him, he pressed his face to Chuck’s neck, inhaling. His big hand settled with dark familiarity onto the kid’s waistband of his jeans. “You showed your boyfriend you have learned how to cooperate. Just one of the little tricks we engaged in, isn’t it?”

Everything inside Casey went deathly silent. He forced himself to control his movements and breathing. Visualizing blood leaking from Liam’s ears and mouth honestly helped. It was a good thing he had fisted his hands because now they were shaking harder. Was he going to have to kill Liam with his bare hands? And hope to hell he was faster than the gun in his ex-boss’ hand?

Logic told him the kid would be dead before his fingers dug in.

“Time’s running out,” Casey told him. His eyes promised death for his former business partner. “Do you want to see your money again or not?”

“Just kill the kid, Liam,” Rudy broke in, laughing at the stand-off. “That’ll teach Johnnie not to –”

“I’ll allow it,” Liam said quietly with a smile, keeping his eyes pinned to Casey. He slid a few fingers into Chuck’s pants, his thumb playing along the kid’s flat abs, just a teasing caress before he moved his palm out of sight behind Chuck to apparently palm one cheek. A tight squeeze, if the kid’s jolt was any indication. “You want to talk to your boy? I’ll give him to you.”

Chuck let out a muffled yelp and shuffled, but it got him nowhere. The gun stayed pressed to his throat.

“Why?” Rudy blurted, turning to his boss. “He doesn’t deserve to even look at the skinny brat!”

“I’ll tell you why,” Liam said. He paused long enough to run his other hand along Chuck’s back, contemplating, and Casey suffered, only being able to imagine the touch of warm skin. When the kid lurched, Liam gave Casey a ‘try to stop me’ look. Before Casey could move, Liam spoke gruffly into Chuck’s hair but with his eyes aimed at Casey. “There’s nothing like a man looking straight into the face of what he can lose to get a little motivation, eh, boyo?” He gave Chuck a little shove. The kid lumbered forward, catching himself and turning a dirty look on Liam. “I have a few stipulations of my own, however, laddie.”

“Not a damn bit of flexibility on my side.”

“I’ll play along – but you get two minutes,” Liam announced, exchanging a look between Chuck’s perspiring face and Casey’s stone-like one. “You don’t leave my sight. Over there, across the hall in the dining room will be a fine place for your little heartwarming tete a tete.

Casey slanted a look across the hallway to a darkened dining room. There was no door, long ago taken by scavengers no doubt, so it was open to the hallway. “What part of alone was confusing?”

Liam fingers skittered down the kid’s bicep, earning him another sour look. “Take it or leave it.”

Casey told himself he had pushed Liam as far as he could. Avoiding the sight of that creepy, way-too-frisky fucking hand, he nodded. “Let him go, then.”

“Oh. One more thing, Johnnie.” It was purposeful, the way Liam’s hands drifted down over Chuck’s ribcage, a caress to his sternum with his knuckles, down across his belly to his tied hands. When Liam reached the rope, his fingers wrapped around the kid’s bruised wrists. “You can look. But you can’t touch.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Keep your hands off him,” Liam said in a low voice. He moved his palm to Chuck’s throat, his fingers then sliding up through his curls to give him a little shake. The kid closed his eyes, shuddering at the touch. “Talking. Only that. No touching.”

“That wasn’t part of the -”

The silver barrel came up to Chuck’s cheek. Pressed in until the flesh turned white. “Tick, tock.” With each clack of his tongue, Liam tilted his head in a smart-ass manner. “Less than two minutes now. Enjoy looking at what you’re going to lose. But don’t run off, now, boyo.”

“Jesus Christ.” Casey had almost forgotten what a crazy motherfucker Liam really was. He opened his mouth to tell him so, growled out his frustration and, without another look, took Chuck by the rope around his hands, swiped his hat in the other, and tried to delicately yet firmly tow him across the hallway. He felt the kid stumble behind him and chocked it up to having to hustle his boyfriend along, not that Chuck was refusing to come with him. At least he hoped that was the case.

God, he had him. Right here. Casey drew in a breath, nostrils flaring as his chest expanded. The burning ache all but swamped him. And God help him, he never wanted to lose his partner again.

‘You can’t touch him.’

The one thing he sought to do above all, and it was forbidden. Of course, it wasn’t as if he didn’t relive the touch every day in his mind anyhow, but there was no substitute for warm hands and hard flesh. So easily, he could do it. He was dying to bring Chuck chest to chest, give him the heat of his body, wrap his arms around the kid. Be a shield – more than the shitty one he had been up to this time – and get him far away from the evil in every corner of this place. Liam knew it would kill him to be this close, look into those hurt eyes and not be able to press his lips to all that pale, lean flesh. Why else would he do it?

Why couldn’t he just pick the kid up off his feet and carry him out of this god forsaken place?

The hard, yearning compulsion he hadn’t wanted to feel surged up at him now at Chuck’s proximity, so alarmingly intense he wondered if the kid would see it in his eyes when he finally peered into a pair of brown ones. When they reached the side of the dining table, still within view of the men across the foyer, Casey turned and took his first real good look at his young lover.

My God. Chuck, hating the scrupulous inspection, lowered his face, but Casey cupped his chin gently and tugged his head back up. Fuck the rules.

“I know ...” Casey said hoarsely. “Just let me, okay?”

Chuck huffed through his nose, but he was no longer trying to hide. He was sweaty, and gross, and dirty from three days in a room or a closet somewhere, but the scent made Casey hungry, of all things.

“Nuh-uh. That was distinctly a touch, Johnnie. Now you only have one minute.” Over in the other room, Casey could see Liam grinning as he gave a small wave of the pocket watch. “I’d hurry with the good-byes if I were you.”

Casey didn’t bother to modulate the death glare he sent him, though he refrained from telling the man to fuck off. That would just waste time, something he didn’t have. For a moment, his eyes traveled down Chuck’s body. Scratches, cuts, smears of dried blood, but to be objective and clinical, there was nothing that seemed too serious. His feet were a filthy and scraped, and Casey had to wonder where he had been dragged to outside.

Casey’s gaze swooped up into those chocolate-flecked pools. The real story was in his eyes. They always did show everything. It was all there. The scars, the wounds, the long and short of how he managed to still be standing here. Almost something more than mortal seemed to live there in those depths.

“That hasn’t changed at all, brown eyes,” Casey murmured, so badly wanting to touch his cheek. Nothing could be harder, standing close enough for Chuck to see his sea-colored irises, utterly focused on the kid’s face. “You don’t need to say it. I can see everything right there, okay?”

“Mmph!” Chuck dipped his noggin as if he half intended to head butt him. Take it off, asshole!

“Yeah ... about that.” Casey put one hand on the table, the other wanting to take his shoulder. “Before I let you say anything,” he whispered, lips barely moving, “you have to hear me out.”

“Whaph!” Chuck was miffed, breathing like a winded colt, his chest rising and falling.

Casey couldn’t blame him for that. “There are some things that will happen today you won’t understand. You’re going to question my judgement.”

Chuck’s brows wrinkled a bit but he shook his head. Casey knew the kid was doing everything to suppress the rough, tearing sound of his hurt and impatience. Worse yet was seeing the tears he was struggling not to shed in front of him. “Caasph -”

“No, don’t do that,” Casey mumbled, and those sure as hell were not tears stinging his eyes. He swung his attention down again, partly to take another good look at Chuck’s rangy body for injuries and partly to avoid that gaze. “I know I’ve asked you to trust me before, and maybe right now I have no right to do it again ... but I don’t have a choice, pancake. I’m going to take the gag off in a second, but I had to get that ....” He started to reach for it, but froze midway through his sentence.

The. Fuck. The kid’s jeans were ripped open. It took him this long to notice. The buttons had been plucked off, and the only thing holding them up was the grace of God, because those skinny hips didn’t stand a chance.

Casey’s heart began beating at his temples so hard and so fast it reminded him of hummingbird wings. His stomach wanted to expel itself all over the floor. He wanted to kill a few people in the next thirty seconds. Since that was all Liam would give him.

When Casey glanced up, the look in Chuck’s eyes was almost crushing. The kid stood there, bound and dirty, overwhelmed with words he couldn’t yet say. He wasn’t alone. Casey didn’t know if he knew how to form the ones he had to, because they contained all the heartbreak in the world.

“Christ.” Casey ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could smooth back those dark curls slick with sweat, a few stuck to Chuck’s temple. “You might hate me now, and I would understand that, kid.” At one time he knew Chuck loved him, which now made that the hardest thing he ever had to spit out. “I’ve made mistakes. Plenty of them. Leaving you at the farm, leaving you the other night.” Casey swallowed and curled his fingers so as not to reach, to touch. “But I’m doing what I have to do today for a reason. So that we have a chance to fix things, mo ghra ... if you’ll ever let that happen.”

Turning his body just slightly to the side, Chuck reached over with his hands tied in front of him and rubbed his knuckles along Casey’s forearm. As Casey shuffled closer to his lover, Chuck looked down, probably embarrassed that his eyes were sheened with tears. If Liam adjusted his stance at just the right angle, he’d see it. But closing a hand over the top of Casey’s, the kid turned it over, let his thumb rub Casey’s palm. Then he gave him a slight squeeze. Just tell me, he seemed to convey.

Now or never. He had to hear his voice. Even for Chuck to curse him out when he did finally understand. Letting loose a shaky breath of his own, Casey slanted a look to the side and carefully removed the gag. Cold deprivation was Liam’s mission, so he had to do it without touching Chuck’s cheeks or lips, since the asshole would haul them out of there.

The cloth was off. Chuck let out a gasp, his first real deep breath in who knows how long. That face, his entire face, now he could see him. Slightly crooked nose, eyes a little too large, expressive brows, those long lashes. His proximity was heat and comfort at once, a buffer against the world. He looked just as not-perfect-yet-perfectly beautiful as Casey remembered.

“God, I don’t blame you, John,” Chuck said faintly. He let go, leaving Casey with only the thought that he loved the way the kid said his first name, the way his voice dipped on the only syllable. “And there’s no way I can hate you.”

Yet, Casey’s mind filled in, though the relief of hearing it nearly made him dizzy. “You need to stay low and follow my lead -”

“Casey, you heard him. He – he wants to do terrible things,” Chuck whispered, his voice urgent. “Liam ... wants to make you ... oh, God. Watch me. I mean, him. I mean – I can’t even say it!”

“I know. I heard it before.”

Chuck’s brows disappeared under those loose curls. “He – but when ..?”

“Back at Black Rock,” Casey answered tersely under his breath. “We can’t talk about this now.”

“But we can’t just go along and -”

“Hell, no.” Casey eyes drifted down Chuck’s pure, lean muscles of his torso, his long jean-clad legs. Like he’d be willing to share that? He’d have to wait for him to be naked, and holy Christ, even if it took until judgment day, it was going to happen. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Chuck swept a downward perusal over Casey’s chest and body, telling Casey he was not the only one checking out his boyfriend. When the kid brought his eyes up, he was biting down on his bottom lip. “How many times will you tell me that?”

It was an honest question. One Casey couldn’t answer. Instead, he took a giant chance and lifted the arm that was blocked from Liam’s view with his body. A hand gentled on Chuck’s neck, thumb stroking the pulse. “I’m not going to let any man harm you again ... or ... touch you like that. Got that? The idea of it makes me physically sick, and so furious I can’t ....” He stopped and made a fist with his other hand. “Never.”

“Casey – Casey,” Chuck interrupted in a low hiss, “have you seen Bryce?”

Casey’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“Bryce!” Chuck repeated, the name bursting out with a scowl. The kid was doing his level best to keep his voice down, but from across the hall, both Liam and Rudy cocked their heads. Getting the idea, Chuck lowered his voice and continued to blurt, “You can’t trust him, Casey.”

The go-to sarcastic reply was on the tip of Casey’s tongue – no shit, genius! – but he wisely figured his boyfriend’s current state dictated less cynicism and more of getting to the point. “I figured that out on my own -”

“No, no, no – you don’t get it.” Chuck shook his head, emphatic now. “He tried to kidnap me yesterday. We were out of here, on the run -”

Oh, that little dead man. “Now tell me how in the hell you ended up back here.”

“Bryce convinced me to follow him – well, honestly there was dragging involved and -”

“Kid, really, we have no time -”

“I told him we needed to get back to you,” Chuck whispered in a raspy voice. “But I could tell he was hiding something. He waited to spring a little surprise on me.” Seeing the kid’s grimace, Casey braced himself for the punchline he knew was coming. “The only reason he was here is that he wanted to take me to my father!”

“Thirty seconds,” Liam’s deep voice called from the parlor, sounding impatient. “Wrap it up. You saw him. You heard him. Clearly, he’s survived just fine under my care.”

Casey tossed Liam a dirty scowl past his shoulder. His heart, which really hadn’t received a break since a curly-headed kid had been hauled into the parlor, picked up the speed of a bullet. Time was nearly up. If he only had half a minute, the yen to kill Bryce in yet more inventive and painful ways would have to be tamped down for now. Because if Casey only had those measly seconds left with the kid, and the chance that this operation today could come apart like a bucking horse –

“I know,” Casey said. “I’ll take care of it.” He leaned into Chuck, spooking him by pressing his big body to him, an obvious no-no. “Now hold still.”

Gripping his arms, still bound at the wrists, Casey leaned in further and simply seized Chuck’s mouth. The hands on his biceps suddenly clinched. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the kid hitch a breath. On second thought, maybe it did hurt a little, so Casey backed off on the instinctual yearning to hold him as tight as he could. With Chuck’s hands tied, he could do whatever he wanted to that mouth, and he did, playing deep into him, moving to hold his face to take himself to a bottomless depth, sweep his tongue in so far he could get an everlasting taste. Devour him if he had to. He kept his mouth moving on Chuck’s; warm, wet, his teeth nipping tenderly. Okay?

Remember this? Remember me?

Chuck’s hips jerked and he yanked against the bonds, making noises of wordless protest, begging. Oh ... yes, you do remember. Casey pushed in with his tongue, enough to get the tang of something like the kid’s bitter fear, but he pushed past that and made it gentle, tried to return it with some reassurance -

The invasion startled another squawking noise out of the kid, but it only took a second or two of shock for him to open up and pour himself into it. Casey’s other hand latched onto the gag hanging loose around his neck to hold his head still and haul his body close. When Chuck let out a little surprised groan, Casey tugged on the wrist restraints gently to guide him against the table. The kid’s legs hit the edge, and Casey pressed between his thighs, hard groin to groin, the pressure of his body on every available inch of his bare skin as he kissed him, and kept kissing him –

Something cold, a lot like a gun, slid along Casey’s neck. “You never could play by the rules when it came to things you wanted,” Liam said, inching between them. Casey couldn’t do anything about the fact that his ex-boss had moved that quickly. “Now, if you don’t mind, back away from the kid, or I’ll shoot ... well, let’s make it interesting, shall we. Him.” Smiling, Liam shifted the muzzle from Casey to Chuck’s temple. “But look at it this way, Johnnie. If you don’t, you did get one last helluva kiss, didn’t you?”

The kid went ghost white. “Please ... please don’t – ow!” The jab to the cheek, directly on a bruise, had Chuck wincing before he shut up.

“Aw. How sweet, isn’t it, Johnnie?” When he was sure he had made his point, Liam caressed the side of the kid’s neck while those black eyes watched Casey. “Now, I believe we have the matter of my money to discuss.” The sound of the gun cocking was unmistakable. Liam had gone beyond indulgently amused by the antics to outright deadly. “Tell me where it is.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Liam heaved a lofty sigh and shook his head. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he said, and Casey had approximately half a second to wonder what he meant before the gun moved to Chuck’s forehead. “You really did seem like a nice boy, but these negotiations have become dreary for me. Good-bye, ki –”

“Your agreement will allow you to double your money in the next hour,” Casey told him point blank. “Only if you’re willing to hear me out.”

The potency of the words was enough to make him pause, as Casey had just bet Chuck’s life that they would. He watched as Liam at first narrowed his eyes at him skeptically, weighing them along with Casey’s body language. Then one brow slowly rose. “Speak. You have another minute only until I pull the trigger and end his little, wretched existence for good.”

Okay, kid, don’t hate me forever for this. Casey straightened and backed up a step, bracing himself for the explosion that he knew he surely couldn’t avoid. “The boy’s father is prepared to make a deal with both of us,” Casey said quickly, not daring to look over at Chuck. “I’ve come into possession of something he holds very dearly. It was the reason he wanted to swap his son for the land deal months ago, and the reason he’s back here today.”

“Wh-what?!” The instinctual – and predictable – gasp forced Casey to look at the kid. If he was ghost white before, this bit of news dragged his skin tone to a whole new level. Bleached-out buffalo bones rotting in the desert had more color. “You’re making a deal with my father?! For the Ci – ssph! NO!”

“Go on,” Liam said, shooting a glib glance at the kid. “You have my attention. Make it worth my while or the same deal applies.” The gun jabbed the kid again, but being stunned stupid, Casey wasn’t sure if he felt it.

“He’s waiting for me. Right now.” Casey squared his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “The object in question is ... accessible when we get there. The deal is simple. Mr. Adams gets what he wants, he pays me, I pay you ... along with the bank money I have stashed in the same location.”

“You – you can’t do that!” Chuck blinked at him, trying to jerk his hands free. “You can’t give it to him, Casey. You have no idea what you’re getting into!”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Liam asked Casey, grabbing Chuck’s arm to pull up to his body. Mine again the move clearly said. “That this isn’t a set up?”

There was only one response Liam would believe, and Casey knew he’d have to give it to him straight for once. The raw exposure of it be-damned.

“Because I wouldn’t take the risk if it comes down to him.” Casey tipped his head in Chuck’s direction and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re ... holding something I have every intention of dying for if I have to.”

Now Chuck did more than blink at him. He outright gaped. “You’re joking, right? Have you lost your mind? After everything I told you?!”

“Chuck –”

“No!” Chuck lunged forward, throwing himself between them. He looked like he wanted to cry or punch something, and Casey was certain he knew which would happen first if he ever got those hands free. “I won’t let you do this – okay, it may seem like I can’t, but if you – gph!”

Without a word, Casey scooped up the gag and stuffed it back between Chuck’s teeth.

I’ll owe you a million apologies later, kid, but it has to happen this way.

“Mmmmph!” Chuck stared in dazed horror as Liam gradually lowered the gun. “Noph!”

Casey resisted the urge to touch him, at this point not willing to see if the kid would try to lash out at him, and instead turned back to face his ex-boss.

“Since you’re so fond of setting a time limit, thirty seconds to think about it,” he said, slipping his hat back on his head. “We have a deal or not?”

x-End Chapter Fourteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Fifteen

-x-

“You,” Sabine said, slipping her rifle over her back. “Mr. High and Mighty. Don’t get too comfortable there, oui?”

In other circumstances, Devon would find it amusing that both Bryce and Chuck’s father had looked over at her when she flung out the nickname. Bryce seemed to squint at her, slightly confused, while Chuck’s dad frowned when he saw her eyes clearly pinned to him.

“I highly doubt that sitting in a buggy at the edge of the woods can be referred to as comfortable,” Mr. Adams said, waving a hand in a vague motion. “Why are we waiting here? Where did Mr. Casey run off to this morning? Doesn’t it just figure the coward would leave us here.”

“Interesting,” Sabine said, tilting her head at the indignant man. “John told me it is the little one who talks too much. Climb down, Monsieur Paon. You get your wish. Waiting time is over.”

“Explain where we are going, then.” Adams’ chin went up. “And you should know, I don’t take orders from a woman. I expect to be addressed respectfully.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Morgan piped up, looking over at her. “Casey said that about me?”

Sabine ignored him. “And you should know, Mr. Adams,” she said, her eyes practically blazing, “that respectfully, I don’t take guff from pompous assholes who waste my time with their notions of chauvinism.” She twisted a ‘take no prisoners’ smile onto her lips. “Now, if you don’t mind, unseat your ass from the buggy, close your pie eater, and follow me.”

Mr. Adams shot her an irate look before climbing down from the buggy’s seat. “Only because you temporarily have the upper hand, Miss.”

“Now hang on.” Bryce put up a hand, and Devon watched as Chuck’s ex-roommate stepped forward to follow her over to the horses. “If you don’t mind, what are the rest of us supposed to do?” He paused to look her up and down before simply taking the reins of his horse. “I’m not staying here. And you should know I don’t take orders from women, either.”

As Devon saw her shoulders stiffen, he couldn’t hold back his attempt to diffuse with a dry chuckle. “You know, I brought some apples, bread, and cheese for breakfast. Anyone want some?”

“Will you take orders from my companion, Miss Molly?” Sabine asked in a purr. How she had swung her rifle around that fast, Devon had no clue. This was also about the time he learned she had Casey’s habit of naming her guns. “Let me introduce you to her.”

Bryce stared down the barrel of her rifle. He had to, Devon supposed, since it was now resting against his perfect nose. “You do realize I’m the one who led Casey here this morning?” Bryce muttered in his defense. “If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t know where to find Chuck.”

“Was that before or after you also dragged his father into the middle of this?”

“It’s for everyone’s benefit,” Bryce argued, though Sabine looked less than convinced.

“Um, hey, listen.” Devon hedged - he really hated guns – but seeing no other choice, he slowly inched between them. “Miss, I’m afraid that no matter how tempting it may be to, ah, shoot him, I can’t condone violence.” He held up his hand in a gesture of peacekeeping and beamed his best smile. “We can debate who’s at fault here and who can kill whom first. But I need to remind you of something. There’s still the minor issue of our friend being held hostage. Goes by the name of Chuck, in case you forgot?” He lifted a brow to layer on the guilt. “So maybe we should get him back first, and then we can figure out who gets to chop off body parts of the other.” He overlooked Bryce’s annoyance at that. “We have to keep our wits together, guys ... and ladies.”

“Nice speech.” Sabine pressed in to flatten Bryce’s nose. While Devon’s mind whirled with images of what he would see if she pulled that trigger, she gave one more solid poke before turning the muzzle towards the father. “The peacock over there comes with me. You,” and she re-aimed at Bryce, “ne pas bouger.”

“Oh, really,” Bryce replied tersely. “I don’t understand French.”

“Perhaps my universal translator can help.” The gun barrel swerved back to Bryce’s head. “Molly and I just ordered you to stay put.” Once she had his attention, she twitched a shoulder at Devon and Morgan. “You, the pretty one over there.”

“Um, yes?” Morgan smoothed a hand down his shopkeeper’s vest. “At your service.”

“No. Tall blondie,” she said. “The handsome one. I have a job for you.”

“I think that’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?” Morgan gave an uncomfortable smile and bobbed his head in Devon’s direction. “I may not be as ... handsome in the classic sense – if you like that kind of thing – but some folks consider me as having a certain well, animal appeal. It’s the profile, don’t you think?” Morgan angled his head to provide her a view of it.

“I’ve seen muskrats with a firmer profile,” Adams mumbled, his eyes tripping over Morgan’s hair.

Testiness spread over Sabine’s face. “On second thought, Paon, you may need to be gagged until we get to our ... destination.”

It wasn’t a joke if the sharp look meant anything - which Devon reckoned it did since the woman seemed all business this morning. Adams wisely ended the stand-off with one more black look before his mouth snapped shut.

In fact, Devon realized, she seemed almost jittery, but who could blame her? Now that Casey had presumably departed for the old Edgewood planation before sunup, he was probably just as deeply in danger as Chuck.

“You said you have a job for me – er, us?” Devon asked. Oddly, or maybe as an omen, sweat had sprouted under his collar. The day’s plans were beginning to unfold, though he had no idea which way. “Am I going with you?”

“No, mon cher, you have a simple task, yet crucially important.”

“Well, sure.” Devon automatically slid a hand over his jacket, inner pocket on the right. Yes, his Francotte Pinfire was still there. “What is it?”

“It’s regarding these two,” she replied, her eyes cutting to the father and Bryce one more time, warning them with a burning look before she lowered her rifle. “They were relieved of their weapons yesterday –”

“Right, I saw Casey take them. So?”

“Then you know they need to be watched.” Sabine walked in a beeline up to Adams and stopped. “I’ll be watching this one ... since I’m to take Mr. Big Britches to a rendezvous.”

“Who?” Adams growled.

“You,” she said. “Do you have the papers?”

“The ones the ruffian made me sign?” Adams sneered. “Yes, they’re safe.” He patted his pocket where his gun had kept his wallet company until last night. In his other hand was an overstuffed satchel. “I want that pistol returned to me when we’re finished here. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Shut up. You, Handsome. Listen up.”

“Yes?” Immediately, Devon cringed when the woman smiled at him for learning his apparent new name so quickly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take Larkin and the other little yahoo over to the wagon and make them comfortable. You’ll be waiting for a while, so keep an eye on the one with the untrustworthy smile. Try not to get yourself and little Moron kidnapped like your friend. And one last thing. Do not to kill the pretty one yet. John wants him in one piece for now.”

Bryce almost coughed up the piece of bread he had begun to chew. “What was that?”

“Dude, what’s a yahoo?” Morgan thought about it and punched Devon in the arm. “Hey, do you think it’s a compliment?”

Devon shook his head helplessly and pivoted around towards Sabine. “That’s it? We’re waiting here? With Bryce?”

“Oh, one more thing,” Sabine said, adjusting the strap of her rifle to bring it over her chest again. “Do you have your gun handy?”

“Well, yes.” Devon hated the way she asked that question. “Right here. In my vest.”

“It does you no good there, Monsieur,” she told him, her eyes shifting to Bryce, her voice neutral. “Take it out and point it at that one. If he tries anything, shoot him in the leg.”

Devon’s hand froze mid-reach. “His leg?”

“Fine. Arm will work. Feel free to rough him up.” Sabine motioned to the none-too-happy older gentleman with the tiniest jerk of her head, “You. Monsieur Grand Pantalons. Move it. You’ll ride next to me on your horse, not behind, not ahead. Think you can follow those instructions?”

“I beg your pardon,” Adams said, “but I -”

“Ah, that reminds me, Monsieur. One more thing.” At the side of the horse, she grabbed the saddle horn and pulled herself up, then signaled for the esteemed Charles Adams the Second that he best follow suit. As soon as he did, she rode over and swiped the neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket. “Keep your mouth shut from here on out, or I’ll be forced to shove this precious trinket down your throat. Not pleasant, oui?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Adams bit out.

“Try me.” Sabine shot him a look and nodded goodbye to Devon before taking hold of the riens. “Your son, his chatter is rather charming, but you, sir, bore the hell out of me. Not another word until we get there.”

Adams looked daggers at her, but saw in her eyes she’d welcome the fight if he chose to disobey. So he stayed quiet while Sabine turned, calm and composed, on Bryce one final time. “You’re out of chances, garçon. I know my friend’s tendencies very well. One more screw up, and he’ll carve you up to the size of matchsticks. After that, he’ll light you on fire. Comprenez vous?”

Devon darted a look between Sabine and Bryce. At least the weasel had the decency to gulp.

As Adams and Sabine rode away, something occurred to Morgan, and he rounded on Devon excitedly. “Wow. That woman is in-tense,” the shorter man said. Then he cocked his head. “Hey, do you think I stand a chance with her?”

-x-

Devon folded his arms and sighed. The ground was hard as a rock, and the saddle blanket wasn’t helping. “Next time I’m not the greenhorn staying back to babysit,” he muttered, and sat back against one of the buggy wheels to keep it from rearing up on its axels and floating away, apparently. It would probably be an exciting mission ... if he actually played a part that didn’t involve childminding a petty troublemaker and a boy-man who carried a slingshot. Who knew being part of a rescue operation could be so ... monotonous? Why couldn’t he be in the action at least?

He came to regret that thought. Rather quickly.

The sound of something squeaking behind Devon made him whirl and look up, one hand scrambling for his gun.

“Nuh-uh, sorry, Doc.” When Devon blinked, he saw the bluest pair of eyes staring down at him, dead serious and trouble brewing. That was distressing enough, but nothing compared to the icily cold gun barrel Bryce had pressed to the side of his neck, even though Devon swore as of ten minutes ago, the other man was still unarmed. “Get your hands up, or I’ll have to shoot you,” Bryce said quietly.

“Easy, bro,” Devon said, shirking, but considering the guy looked as dead serious as the gun felt, he stopped scrabbling in his vest. “Listen, no one has to get hurt here, right, man?”

“Your gun is under your jacket, I presume, since that’s what you were reaching for?” Bryce bent over him and gave Devon’s inner pockets a pat down, quickly relieving him of the silver pistol and a small knife. “Nice,” he said as he assessed the blade, a second before he slipped it in his belt. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of it.”

Devon figured he was smiling, but he couldn’t actually see anything beyond the extremely scary barrel of Bryce’s gun. “Whoa, man. Where did you get that? Casey took all your weapons.”

The gun jammed into Devon’s neck. He all but yelped, a noise that was both unmanly and unprofessional. Not awesome. “Call Morgan over here,” Bryce ordered past stiff lips. “No signals.”

“But –”

“Do it.”

Devon glared up at him and wet his lips. Since meeting John Casey, he should be accustomed to his head spinning and his heart pounding, but all of this was still new to him. “Bro, rethink this. You’re only asking for trouble.”

“Still think you’re dealing with a greenhorn?” Bryce’s grip had drawn taut on the gun, and he pressed in deeper against the pale flesh of his neck, making the taller man swallow hard. “Do it. Or I’ll kill .... ” and Bryce paused, tilted his head and smiled, “Him. Your little friend over there. Don’t believe me? Try it.”

Behind the wagon, Devon heard Morgan breaking sticks for a small fire, humming “Polly Wolly Doodle.” At least he was enjoying his last ten seconds of obviousness. Well, maybe it was safer from over there. Less chance of a bullet ricocheting off Devon’s neck and killing yet another innocent man, assuming Bryce could miss from point blank range.

Devon figured that wasn’t a safe assumption.

“Two seconds. Or I do it.” Bryce lifted his hand, pointed it over the top of the wagon, and cocked the trigger. “Well?” he whispered.

“You ... wouldn’t.”

“Think so?” Bryce gave him two more seconds, glanced over the buggy in Morgan’s direction, and took a few steps.

Devon felt the instinctual anger and shock through his body, and had to bite hard on his lips to keep from shouting out. But there was no doubt in his mind that Bryce would kill the little guy if he didn’t give in.

“Wait. Hey, um – bro?” Devon called out, stopping to clear his throat. “Why don’t you – ah, come over here for a minute. There’s something you need to see.”

“Sure, what is it?” Morgan answered. He broke a few more sticks before the sound of his footsteps came around the corner of the buggy. “Need me to – whoa.” As the bearded man looked down, Devon heard him suck in a gasp. “What? Hey, how did – what the heck is going on here?”

Devon could hear his own breath rasping loudly against his ears. “What does it look like, man?”

Bryce calmly lifted his other hand, the one that held Devon’s confiscated pistol, and pointed it at Morgan’s head. “Put your hands in the air. Yeah, just like that. Good man. Now sit down in the grass next to your friend here.”

“Where did you get that?” Morgan gave Bryce a dumbstruck look for about five seconds before the implication struck. “Oh. Oh, no. Um.” Maybe loosing track that there was a gun to both their heads, the smaller man deliberately lowered his hands. It was only to check his holster, Devon realized. After groping himself, Morgan went still, his eyes wide. “You thief!”

Bryce grinned and lifted a shoulder. “You shouldn’t have left the strap unhooked.”

“But that Casey’s third least favorite Colt 45 from 1846!” Morgan’s eyes cut down to the gun. “I was only practicing my quick-draw moves, man! The big guy told me not to let anything happen to it, or he’ll pluck me hairless. Do you know how much hair I have? No, forget I asked.” Morgan gave a nervous laugh and waved him off. “Just know this: a lot. C’mon, dude, give it back!”

“Does this look like I’m going to give you back the gun?” Bryce used the stolen weapon to motion to him. “Sit down.”

“But Casey didn’t say anything about this!”

Bryce squinted at him. “You think I should trust Casey? The dirty outlaw who tricked Chuck into sleeping with him? Yeah. He wants me dead.”

Morgan opened his mouth to retort, thought about it, and ended up just shaking his head. “Well ... um, okay, he wants you dead. But, hey, what you said about Chuck -”

“Sit.”

“Oh, God,” Morgan groaned, casting his eyes up to the sky for divine guidance. “Casey is going to kill me!”

“Dude, not if Bryce does it first,” Devon said. “Honestly, I would do what the little snake in the grass with a gun pointed at our heads says.”

“You should listen to your friend,” Bryce suggested, jerking his head towards the ground. “Get down in the dirt.”

“Fine, I’m sitting, I’m sitting. Sheesh.” Utterly dejected, Morgan plopped down next to Devon with his hands in the air. “Man, my first mission, too.”

“Take off the doctor’s neck tie,” Bryce ordered Morgan, again gesturing with the barrel.

“Why?” Morgan asked.

“You’re going to tie his hands behind his back.”

“What? But – but I like him – oh, not like that, but –”

“Do it.” Bryce attempted a look of regret. It came off a bit greasy, Devon decided. “I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will if I have to.”

“Oh, crap.” Morgan turned his attention to the narrow, long tie barely visible at the top of Devon’s grey cutaway jacket. “Are you sure? Isn’t there another way we can do this?”

“Relax. Do what I say and I won’t have to shoot you.”

“Go ahead, Morgan,” Devon said stiffly. Not wanting the little guy to beat himself up, he was sure to keep his focus on Bryce and not Morgan as he felt the tie being carefully removed. “Just do what he says. He’ll get his soon enough.”

“Right.” Bryce flashed the briefest smile before assuming his cool stance one more time. “All five thousand.”

“What does that mean – ouch.” Devon ducked his head around and huffed, since he had no idea what Morgan was doing back there with his wrists. “Hey, easy. I’m on your side.” He transferred his glare to Bryce. “Unlike the traitor among us.”

“Sorry, man,” Morgan said, pulling on one end of the tie. “He’s making me do it. There. Now what?”

“You next. Put your hands behind your back,” Bryce demanded. Now that Devon’s hands were secured behind him, Chuck’s ex-friend could lower the gun that had been shoved against his neck. It conveniently freed up a hand to bind up Morgan’s wrists with the little man’s belt, which Bryce removed from him in one long drag.

“Hey, do you have to use my own clothing? Don’t you think that’s a little humiliating?”

“Sorry. Need to borrow it,” Bryce replied to Morgan, in no way sounding remorseful. “Turn your back around and keep your hands there. Yes, like that.”

“Why are you doing this, dude – hey, that’s skin back there – ow!”

“Why? Blame John Casey,” Bryce answered. “He has no intention of letting me collect my money.” The sound of the belt cinching was nearly drowned out by Morgan’s pained hiss as it seemingly dug into his wrists even deeper. “In fact, I doubt if that desperado would even let me walk away from this situation.” Finishing up with the makeshift ropes, Bryce stood, looking perfectly at ease and in control. “So sometimes, boys, you just have to take thing into your own hands. Right?”

Devon scowled and tried to wriggle his hands free, flinching when the movement only abraded his wrists. “You’re doing really well with making us understand why Chuck hated you.”

“Oh, he told you stories, did he?” When Bryce shrugged a shoulder, Morgan tried to kick him, but the weasel sidestepped him with no trouble at all. “It’s always been more complicated than that with Chuck. And none of your business.” Stuffing the second gun in the back of his pants, he glanced over at the horses. “Does your horse come when she’s called?”

“My horse?” Devon sputtered. “Well – I - sure she does,” he insisted, trying to twist around. “Willow is my right hand out on the road when I’m making my rounds. Why?”

“Good,” Bryce said. He nodded at his brown and white Paint horse, a skittish steed if Devon ever saw one, and smiled. “Mine, on the other hand, does not. So when I let him loose, you may have a tough time getting him. Oh, and that’s only if you do manage to get your hands free.”

“What?! Willow? You can’t take my horse, bro!”

“You heard him!” Morgan was trying to be useful by writhing around on the ground like a snake over a cook fire. If anything, the belt/rope seemed to be getting tighter. “That’s – that’s stealing!”

“Add it to the list. Hi YA!” Bryce yelled, already giving his own horse a solid lashing on the hind quarters. “Go. Get out of here!”

“Hey! Don’t let him go!” Morgan blurted out. “How will we get back?”

“I think that’s his point, man,” Devon commiserated to his fellow captive. As the two trapped men watched, feeling helpless, the horse vaulted its head up and snorted before bolting down the path in the direction they had come. Watching the animal for a minute, Devon turned to Bryce and said, “I’ve read this story. Isn’t this where the turncoat makes his exit?”

Bryce put out his hands in a ‘nothing I can do about it’ gesture and brandished another smile. “No hard feelings, okay, guys?” he told them, climbing up on Willow. “Oh, and don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her. Now, Casey’s gun?” and he pulled it out and flipped it around his fingers. “I can’t say the same about that.”

“Why not?” Morgan called out.

“Well, with any luck, he’ll never have the need for this again.” Bryce tipped his hat at them in Southern, gracious style and pulled on Willow’s reins. “Good day, gentlemen.”

-x-

“Ten seconds, or the money’s gone.” Casey folded his arms and tossed only a brief look at Chuck, which Chuck translated as a warning to stop squawking. “Mr. Adams’ involvement in this transaction will double the payment for you. But it’s a onetime offer. Take it,” he said, “or you can leave it on the table.”

“Stoph! Mmph!” Underneath the cloth over Chuck’s mouth, there were hundreds of words waiting to spill out. Finding a few choice ones, he tried to swear through the gag – which was uncomfortably tight and tasted disgusting after all the saliva it had collected – but all that came out was, “Guph!”

Casey gagged him? Now? Oh, God. Chuck had always felt that one of the worst experiences in the world had to be having a gag shoved in one’s mouth. The whole routine was especially bothersome for a man who had been told all his life he had a proclivity for chatter.

(Come to think of it, being gagged had been happening quite a bit ever since John Casey rode in on his horse to the farm months ago, and Chuck tried not to be distracted by the way the rate of finding a muzzle slapped over his mouth and being kidnapped seemed to climb exponentially when he met the outlaw. Something in that math was not quite right.)

But it was just his freaking luck to find out now that he was wrong about one thing all along. Yep, as it turned out, being gagged was minor compared to having a cloth stuffed in your mouth by a crazy-ass boyfriend who for some godforsaken reason wanted to strike a deal with your crazier-ass father!

Oh, and your psychotic kidnapper to boot. Yeah, why not?

He had to get out of here. Talk some sense into Casey. As Chuck tried to back away, his heel hit the dining room table, drawing the attention of the two other men currently in the midst of a staring match. They seemed startled that he had moved, or maybe that they had missed him trying to put some distance between them, but either way, the look from each said they didn’t approve of the kid taking matters into his own hands.

Well, tough, John. Not for the first time, Chuck wondered if, after the past six months, his boyfriend had apparently been sipping spiked lemonade if he thought the kid would stand still and let him do this.

Why wouldn’t he listen? Casey knew about the Cipher. The risk, the strange power that was never meant to be harnessed. Fire, water, the ability to see things that were, would be ... could be if someone wanted to twist the thread of time –

Liam took him by the arm. “Are we boring you with this conversation?”

“Casph,” Chuck managed, sounding strangled but putting what he hoped was enough meaning in the dire look he gave his lover. “Donph. You. Dareph.”

“Sounds ... mildly pissed at you, Johnnie,” Liam observed. He seemed to find the situation far more amusing than Casey did, if the stern look Casey leveled at Chuck meant anything. “A lover’s spat, after all of this. Tsk.”

“Chuck, stay out of it,” Casey told him. For some reason, bad timing or distraction, his eyes dropped down to the kid’s naked chest, down to the rip in his jeans, hung low on his hips. Yes, okay. Liam did that. And now it seemed the kid’s mini-rebellion was drawing yet more ire from his lover, gauging by the way Casey’s expression darkened as he turned his attention back to the Chairman of Black Rock. “Time’s up.”

“This ... complicates things, Johnnie. I had other plans.”

“Gooph!” Relief, as infinitesimal as it was, washed over the kid. Now, maybe they could have a reasonable dialogue that didn’t involve the damn Ciph -

“But ... I’ll take it,” Liam said, interrupting Chuck’s thoughts with a half-shrug of his wide shoulder. “But remember, Johnnie, if this is a trap? Well, I hope that kiss a minute ago was as sweet as your boy, because it will be the last thing you’ll get a taste of – and the second to last he’ll get his tongue on.”

If the insinuation hit home with Casey, well, Chuck had to give him some credit. The larger man didn’t so much as shudder, nor put his foot through Liam’s smirking face, which Chuck guessed he might want to do if he really thought about it. “I already told you I wouldn’t risk the kid, and what his father wants is no skin off me, so why would I care?”

“Good. Let’s be clear. I’m holding the one thing you seem to be willing to die for.” Liam put an arm around Chuck’s waist and drew him closer to his body, the slide of his jacket over bare skin reminding him how vulnerable he was. “And by God, I’ll make him pay dearly.”

“Everyone will get what they want,” Casey said, barely flicking a look at the arm around Chuck. “The idiot father, you, me.”

“Fafer?” Chuck blinked and instantly began to pull at his hands in the bindings. Just like the previous dozens of times, he only earned himself a few more rope burns. “Noph!” Had Casey really asked him to trust him? Because, dammit, there were limits. Starting with the fact his boyfriend had to have gone up into his room and searched it thoroughly if he was actually telling the truth. He stole it?!

“On the condition we go to a neutral location,” Casey went on, doing his best to tune out the kid. “You’ll have to follow me.”

“I’m not risking an ambush. I know how you work. I’m putting my neck out there by myself with the kid’s dad. Do I really think he’ll have my back?” Liam rolled his eyes and took out his gun again, shoving it against Chuck’s neck. It was getting harder to forgive Casey every time a gun got pushed against a body part he thought he might need at some point. “Not happening.”

“I told him to meet us. He’s waiting there.”

"You do realize what’s at risk Johnnie?” Moving the muzzle to the side of his head, Liam pulled back ever so slightly on the hammer, making Chuck close his eyes. He hated the sight of blood, but then again, he might not be around to see it. “It would be so easy, too, wouldn’t it? Putting a bullet in his head.”

“Mmph!”

“Shut up, Bartowski.” Casey slanted him a sideways look that promised a lesson later in trust.

“Nuh-uph!” Yeah, he’ll show him trust. You dummy!

Of course, that had no effect. “Are you coming or not?” Casey asked his ex-boss.

Liam smiled. Before Chuck could subtly backpedal, he was hauled over to the doorway and dragged up against Liam when they stopped. Not an accident when his captor had to bring a hand to the kid’s waist to steady him. “Your boy. My money. If it happens ... I suppose it’s an even exchange. You have my word.”

“Your word.” Casey grunted, and maybe knowing what that was worth, he hocked a lugee on the floor. “It’s business. You get the money. I get the kid.”

“Bullshiph!” Chuck eked out, his dark eyes saying what he couldn’t when he pointed them straight at Casey. What the hell was wrong with him?

“And if the money’s not there, I torture the location out of you.” Liam lowered the gun from the side of Chuck’s neck, straight to his heart. “Using... him.”

-x-

As Devon expected, that was it. Now they got to live through the hilarity of watching Devon’s own horse being ridden away. Yeah, it was as fun as it sounded.

The Doctor closed his eyes in resentment at the sight of Bryce and Willow disappearing into the woods. “Any idea how to get out of this?” he asked, wishing he could rub his aching temples. When Morgan didn’t reply right away, he inclined his head. “Bro?”

Instead of the usual chatter he expected out of Morgan, he heard the little guy let out a snort. “What an idiot.” Morgan budged a little and sighed. “Chuck was right. At the risk of being too obvious, man, Bryce really can’t be trusted.”

“He’s the idiot?” Devon asked. By now, the Doctor scooched around awkwardly to look at him, only so that Morgan would have appreciation for the eye roll. “Hate to remind you, bro, but we’re the ones tied up.”

“For now.”

“Hm?”

“You heard me.” Morgan began dragging his bottom in the dirt. He didn’t stop until his back was lined up with Devon’s. “But if Bryce Larkin can stage a revolution, then so can we, my man. So. Can. We.”

“A what now?” Devon wrinkled his brow, but to his amazement, he got the sense of a tugging at the necktie. “What’s going on back there?”

“What I like to call a rope trick, man!” Morgan answered. “I left a little loop that I should only have to ... well, puulll – and it should come loose. If I can only ... hold still ... hold it hold it – nobody is going to leave one Morgan Grimes tied up like a - Eureka!”

“Whoa.” Devon’s jaw dangled gently in the breeze as he felt the tie fall free. “Man, a few minutes ago, you were rolling around on the ground like an imbecile!”

Morgan ignored both the insult and the gaping while Devon quickly finishing unraveling his own hands and started on Morgan’s knots. “Dude, haven’t you ever heard of a diversion?”

“Looked like an epileptic seizure, man.” And it did, too. Easily the most intense bit of acting Devon had ever witnessed. There was no time to get into it. He gulped back the shock and jumped to his feet, finally with a reason to flash his dazzling grin. “Has anyone ever said you can be a handy guy to have around?”

“Not yet, I’m not.”

Of all the answers Devon expected – clapping, a one fingered salute in Bryce’s direction - the seriousness of the response was so far off the list he had to blink at him. “No?”

The man called Morgan Grimes rose to his feet, all five foot six ready for battle, and nodded to the West. “I say we have to change our own plans. We told Casey we would stay, but that was until Bryce pulled this number on us. Major Tool if there ever was one. If he wants to make life hell for my friend, well ... today is the day for vengeance.”

Devon blinked again, mostly at this much vehemence form the little guy. “Ven – are you out of your mind? We don’t have any gu -”

“That’s right!” Morgan simply brought his fist up and placed it over his heart. With an abrupt nod, his face full of reverence, he said, “Today, the little guys are taking control of our destiny!”

“Little guys?” Devon looked him up and down, making a point that he didn’t quite fit in that category. “Hang on, what about -”

“You’re dang right,” the diminutive dude announced. “We’re going to follow Bryce Larkin, lay down some cover for my buddies, and most importantly -”

“Not get shot?”

“Well, yes, that too, but no. No, man! This is bigger. Way bigger.”

“What?” Devon eyed him for symptoms he had a fever.

“Grab your weapon of choice – or, um, a slingshot as the case may be,” and Morgan paused a bit sheepishly to tug it out of his vest, a second before he flourished it for Devon, “because Liam and his unruly orangutans are going down tonight!”

-x-

“So here we are, in the middle of the woods,” the kid’s father sneered. “How cozy.” Twigs snapped under his horses’ hooves as he rode alongside her, just a few feet between them. “Was this all part of the plan, or was your own motive to try and put a bullet between my eyes and take the money?”

“The bullet is tempting,” Sabine said to herself. It was getting easier to ignore him now that they had entered the darkened woods. Shifting from bright sunlight to shadows, the woman was more fully alert to the way the air had immediately turned chillier against her skin, the heavy scent of moss lingering on a damp breeze. “I told you, sir, I’m to take you to a meeting. I believe I spoke clearly enough even for a man with that much starch in his shirts, oui? Or does it cut off the circulation?”

Mr. Adams just turned his head and gave her a vexed look. “You’ve been awfully secretive, woman. Tell me, does this meeting involve me being able to walk away with ... my acquisition ... or will there be a gunfight? I think I deserve to know, since the twofaced bandit you call your friend relieved me of my weapons.”

“Consider this your only shot at getting what you came for.” Sabine sent a glance to him before returning her focus to the path ahead. In her mind, she had questions on the object that had the father trying to keep from lathering at the mouth, but the signals Casey gave were that the topic should be approached with extreme caution. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?” she said, making the observation idly. “What brought you all the way here from Boston? Not your son, of course. You seem to have no interest or regard for his safety. Puh. Your own flesh and blood, too.”

“I’m not proud of him,” Charles Adams muttered under his breath.

“Why not?”

“Why not? God, woman.” He swiveled his head, only to give her a quick eye roll before staring forward, avoiding her curious gaze. “If you must ask, you are probably the last one to notice that it appears my son has fallen in love with a man – which is bad enough, of course, since he wasn’t raised that way. Yet to make matters worse, the object of his affection is barely what I would consider human. More like the caked-on dirt on the bottom of my boots. Obviously, my son has been molested by the demon, and too blinded ... or sucked in - to realize what damage has been done to him.”

“Casey damaged him, hm?”

“Indeed. Irreparable harm – and of all people, the Kee – well, that’s enough.” Adams let loose a sigh. “But after all that time with the rascal, I doubt if there’s hope for his soul. Is that what a man dreams of for his only son?”

A spike of aggravation, which Sabine had managed to hide rather well back at the wagon, rose in her chest. “You sir, are full of horseshit,” she said with more bitterness and emotion than she had wanted to let slip. “Putting my friend’s description aside for a moment, that kid of yours left town long before he met John Casey. It had nothing to do with him – and everything to do with you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Adams ground between his teeth, “but this is quite -”

“Shut up.” Sabine felt a spark of anger, almost visceral. “The only thing your son wanted was your approval – though God help me, I don’t know why – and not getting that, he did the wisest thing he could and got as far away from you as possible.”

Adams had momentarily tensed, and a split-second later scoffed and dug his boots into the horse’s side. “It’s much bigger than that, and much more than any woman could understand.”

“Merde.” They were nearing the designated meeting place, according to Bryce’s directions and Devon’s recollection of the nearby river. That didn’t stop Sabine from pulling on the reins so hard the horse reared back. As the man made a noise of surprise, she turned the animal to face him, eyes burning into him. “You’re fortunate that I have orders to deliver you in once piece,” she said, enjoying the astonished look. “Otherwise I’d be tempted to see how many neatly portioned sections of dumbass I can leave between here and the river.”

“You wouldn’t even –”

“No?” Before he could finish with the snarky reply, she whipped the knife out of her wrist-sheaf and swung it upward. Those three words were as far as he got before the blade appeared in a glint of silver under his throat. A heartbeat later, the pointed end twisted and rose, getting him to lift his chin, meet her eyes. “Let’s get a few things straight, Monsieur, between you and I before we go any further, oui?”

Adams forced a swallow through a throat that he could barely move. “What.”

“For one, though I may be a lowly woman in your estimation,” and, reeking with sarcasm, she took the opportunity to dig the tip of the blade in, just enough to see a dot of blood appear above his starched collar, “I think I understand a few things about you and your son. You see, I actually got to know him quite well. He was ... a house guest of mine for a short period.”

“And where was that, Miss? Or should I say what cavorting hall ... or whorehouse?”

“I prefer maison de reves.” Slowly, so slowly, she began to wind the very tip of the knife down and in. “You would like to know though, wouldn’t you? It’s a shame your search for him came up so short all that time.”

“Tried to work the devil out of him in your little ‘house of dreams’?” The man chuckled darkly and let his gaze roll over her body as if he could see exactly what was under the brown duster. “Oh, I bet you’re an uncommonly sweet peach beneath the layers ... under the covers. I can see it didn’t quite work – gah.”

Blood, wet scarlet, began to ooze out of the slit as the blade pressed in. Sabine watched it for a moment, her grip tightening on the knife. “Not quite like that. Your son was born the way he is -”

“A homosexual. The devil’s deviant.”

“Correction, sir,” Sabine continued in that implacable voice, quiet yet reverberating, rising over the cackle of the birds or the rustling leaves, “If you could see past his biological traits or his genetics – did the woman use a word too big for you, Monsieur? – you would know your son is a good man with a generous heart. You want to change what he thinks and feels, without ever knowing who he really is. You should be ashamed for the necessity of a reminder.” The sharpened reprimand was now sliding, ever so carefully, along the pale hollow of his throat. The man’s mustache wobbled, the only sign he was shitting himself. “As for my friend Johnnie ... Your son fled from the storm, whatever it was you forced upon him.”

“He was born with that, too,” Adams muttered. “I would’ve never chosen him to be the One.”

The One? Good Christ, the man was so close to wanting to say something, but Sabine’s senses went off like Chinese rockets on New Year’s. She had heard the word Cipher uttered by Johnnie, but he made it clear. Forbidden territory, she thought as blood began to drip drip drip down the front of the crisp white shirt under the jacket. “Your son ran, seeking ... an anchor amid the tempest.” Narrowing her eyes at him, she dug it in one more time before pulling back. “That’s what Johnnie is to him.”

“How fucking poetic.” With the knife gone, Adams took a deep breath and glared at her. “Enough of your games, woman. Do you mind telling me where the hell we’re going?”

Sabine gazed at him a bit longer, ensuring he’d have nothing more to say about Chuck or Johnnie, and seeing him sufficiently cowed, she nodded and snapped the reins. In a dozen ways, she wanted to finish the conversation with the knife in hand, slice him, but too much was at risk. “Over there,” she said. “So perhaps you can be quiet now.”

“Why?” He looked around the woods. “What are we doing here?”

“We need to listen for a rushing river. Follow it up about a mile, and we’ll find fallen trees that make a bridge. I’m to leave you at the bank of the creek. Follow me.”

She could hear the way he had sped up his horse, the way the animal’s feet hit against the grass. “Leave me? But you can plainly see there’s nothing here. Certainly not what was ... promised to me if I take part in this charade. This is absurd. I’m going back with you – to find John Casey.”

Mid-turn, she pulled out her pocket Derringer and pointed it at his head. The man jolted on reflex. “Mr. Adams, do you have a gun?”

“No,” he admitted coldly. “The ruffian stole it from me, I’m sure you recall.”

“Yes, there was a reason for that,” Sabine said. “Since a pompous ass will rarely listen when he’s not in control, Johnnie thought it would be wise to remind you who is in control.”

“A damn woman.” Adams began to lurch his horse past her. “I’ve had enough.”

The gunshot jolted him like a rabbit. One blink, and his perfectly rounded bowler hat had vanished from his head. Pieces of it landed behind him in the grass.

“You shot me!” Adam stammered, swinging around to gape at her. “You’re – you’re insane!”

“No, Monsieur, I shot at you,” Sabine said in a silky voice. Deciding the dog would need his bone, she added, “If you ever want to see your Cipher again, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

The man went still. “Who told you that?

“Good, I have your attention.” Sabine glanced between him and the trail, and turned the horse. “We understand each other now.”

“Wait! Where is it?” His eyes began a desperate dance around the canopied forest, as if it would pop out of the trees. “Have you seen it? Is he lying?”

“Not important at the moment.” She returned his dirty look with a knowing smile. “The only thing I know is the lengths you’ll go to find it. Now, I suggest you stop playing your games, and let the woman lead the way.”

-x-

Despite the ugly whorls of hatred that Casey felt each time he focused on Liam’s back, he had to keep his mind straight. Off the fact his ex-boss had purposely tossed the kid up in the saddle next to him, that big body of his coming up behind Chuck and surrounding him with those thick arms and legs like tree trunks.

Asshole. You taught me manipulation, remember?

He forced himself to look away, to focus on his surroundings like he should’ve been doing in the first place. The kid was fine. Pissed as hell at you, but fine.

The silence stretched out and onward for a mile, broken only by the horses and a few rabbits they scared up by venturing this deeply into the woods. The path they followed was dotted with fallen logs, brush, and long reeds of grass the further they strayed off from the beaten-down road away from the plantation. Adopting the slow and steady gait of the lead horse, Vic walked with her ears pinned back, tail swishing, only because Casey was sure she could feel the overall stiffness in his body.

For starters, Casey’s dire squint should’ve cut a hole in Liam’s back. If he could get a bullet through him without killing the kid with the same shot, by Christ, he would do it. Maybe it was a good thing they had taken his weapons clean off him.

His ex-boss shifted in the saddle and eased off to one side, still covering Chuck but giving Casey a view. Lazily, like it was a way to pass time with a lover, one big hand stroked the kid from neck to buttocks. Casey could see each lean muscle in his boyfriend’s neck and back tense and roll at the unwanted fondling. The sensation Casey felt was almost too rough to bear, drawing his stomach tight, and a deep growl made its way out of him.

“There now, that’s better, isn’t it, boy? I forget you probably have never found yourself in this position, have you? Up against a man’s body who will really know how to make you good and warm when the time comes. Not shivering, are you?”

“Noph!” Chuck turned his head back to point a scowl at him, giving Casey a flash of his profile. It was just enough to see his brown eyes were filled with enough fear and misery to put a spike through his heart. “Uumph,” he managed, which Casey translated as ‘get your damn hands off me’, or ‘I’m going to strangle my fucking boyfriend for this!’

To be honest, no matter how badly he wanted it to be the first sentiment, it was probably 50/50 at best the kid meant the second one.

Watching them up ahead, Casey remained motionless, his inhalations shallow, though his jaw was held so tight he was afraid it might fracture. When Liam began tracing the bumps of Chuck’s spine with one hand for Casey’s benefit, Casey knew he was purposely treading over the line. Digging for the reaction he wanted.

Yeah. Breathe, dumbass. Don’t let him.

“I never feel the cold.” Liam bent his head close to Chuck’s ear, right above the strip of cloth that crossed the back of his head. It was tied tightly enough to make his curls stick out wildly around it. “I’ll sweat like a lathered horse come summer for you if that’s what it takes. You’ll be good and warm, boy. Maybe that’s what you always wanted, hm?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Oh? I scare you, do I?” Liam asked, deliberately speaking loud enough for his voice to reach Casey. Of course, being in the rear, Casey couldn’t help but see every move, eyes pinned to both men. The motion of Liam’s hand slowed at Chuck’s nape, and encircling a hand around his blushed neck, he squeezed. “Someone who knows how to keep you warm? A man gets lonely after all these months. When was the last time someone showed you how to have a little fun, anyway? Maybe how to use those nice, long legs of yours, hm?”

“Nuph.”

“Yeah?” Liam chuckled, dragged his lips across the kid’s cheekbone. “Wonder how they feel ... all wrapped around a man? Can you do it with some muscle, laddie? Squeeze hard?”

“Gophtohelf!”

Damn him to hell, all right. All Casey knew was it was him being tested, not the kid. Sure, Chuck was paying the brunt of it right now, with his muscles bunched up at every point of contact, visibly recoiling when lips were pressed against his skin, but the show was all for Casey.

“Come along, now, boy,” Liam said. “It’ll be worth the wait. You’ll be able to let loose for me, won’t you?”

I will kill you. Casey closed his eyes, his fingers curling around the saddle horn. Heat flooded him and poured from his body in every way it never had, except in the dark of night when he’d had Chuck’s angular, hard body tangled with his.

Logically, it confirmed the mortifying nightmare. This was Liam’s idea of a preview of tonight. Of the cruelty he wanted to dispense, evenly and without compunction. Casey wasn’t sure what the man expected to hear him beg for, his life or Chuck’s, but to think he would be forced to sit still and watch led further into madness.

Not going there. Because never, ever will that happen.

Hell, Casey knew long before he stepped up on the creaky porch at Edgewood that the man had no intention of letting him miss out on the show he had planned. Never had any aim to hurt him only with something as simple as money. He’d never give up his final act of revenge that easily.

It was always about Chuck. Paying with his hide, while Casey would pay with his ... well, you gotta be able to think it, asshole, if you’re ever going to tell him. Yeah, that thing in his chest he didn’t think he had any longer until met the kid. The intention was to pay with ... that.

“Your boy is quite shy, did you know that?” Liam called back to him. “This doesn’t bother you, does it Johnnie, that I thought it best he ride me instead of you?”

Not a slip of the tongue; he meant it that way.

The offending hand moved down to rest in the small of Chuck’s back. Liam repositioned his body against him so that tendrils of the hair over Chuck’s neck had to brush Liam’s stubble.

God, Casey almost trembled with the urge to kill. Thinking of the kid’s hair, his scent, a flush of heat filled him in a different way as he remembered that soft brushing against his skin. Damn nuisance waking up with it grazing his lips, stuck to his mouth ....

and he’d die to feel it again.

Jesus. Best to get his cock in line and not think about how many bullets this was going to require.

Better yet, how to get his hand on a gun.

Barely turning his head, Casey’s eye caught the briefest movement. Still there. Admittedly, he should be keeping tabs on the imbeciles behind them and to the northwest, cutting through the woods about forty yards away. Creepy thugs for hire, Casey supposed, the best Liam could drag together in a strange town. Did his boss think that falling for a man had made him that weak, where he didn’t know a tail when he sensed one?

On the topic of being tailed, he had to wonder, what if Sabine wasn’t able to get here? What if one of those thugs sniffed her out? What if she didn’t know she was being followed?

“Where are you taking us, laddie? Unfortunate, but your boy doesn’t seem to enjoy the company. You can’t feel it – mm, no, like I can, oh, trust me - but he has yet to stop his squirming. Nice, but I wonder if he realizes it probably has the opposite effect he wants at the moment?”

Chuck whirled his head around and gave him two confused eyeballs for approximately five seconds before the implication struck him. “Ooph. Mng.” He immediately went still, looking almost panicked as he then began to try and scoot forward in a confined space where he was absolutely trapped.

“We’re close,” Casey said. And you’re going to wish you had kept those fucking hands to yourself. “Over by the river.”

It was a study in muscle control and anger suppression to keep Vic from riding up next to him and strangling his ex-boss with the reins, but he succeeded. Perhaps it was the notion he and the kid would have matching bullet holes, courtesy of those clowns riding in from the leafy cover that stopped him. Still, it didn’t stop his fingers from knotting with the agony of clenching the reins too hard.

“Feel that, boy?” Liam whispered. He bent forward and brushed his lips over the side of the kid’s tender throat, his other hand holding him in place like an unshakable collar. “You ... ever ... let another man touch you like that?”

Fuck. Don’t listen.

His ex-boss knew Casey had tortured himself for the past four months. That at night, he saw images of other hands on Chuck’s body, other men seeing those beautiful eyes and his long, lean, frame. He woke from dreams about it, wanting to smash and tear something. But as powerful as the physical attraction was, it was even more dangerous to give Liam the edge of knowing how much deeper it went for Casey. In truth, if he was forced to look in the mirror and be brutally honest, Casey knew he hadn’t comprehended how much he loved Chuck Bartowski until he left him at a train station. And it was still fucking pathetic when he thought about it now.

“As enjoyable as this ride has been, Johnnie, your boy and I are getting antsy.” Liam tightened the arm around Chuck as he veered the horse around, the false pretense of steadying him causing a startled little sound to eke out from behind the gag. “Tell me,” he went on, his voice becoming dead-cold. “Where’s the money?”

“We’re stopping up ahead.” Casey pointed his chin towards the noise that at first sounded like a quiet rush of air, gradually becoming louder. The river, now about fifty yards down a grassy slope, made its presence known first by the steady, rolling thrum of water against the rocks and fallen trees. Well, it proved the doc was reliable. Every tree in these damnable woods looked the same, but he had been dead on with his directions.

“Finally, eh?” Liam ran his knuckles alongside Chuck’s face. “I think your boy would like to get away from me.”

“Get off your damn horse,” Casey answered. With a quick nod before pulling back on Vic’s reins, Casey swung down from the saddle. When he looked up, he saw Chuck give a pleading stare down at him from his seat in front of Liam.

Casey assessed him only until he felt his heart kick him in the chest. The kid’s cheeks were red, his crazy hair stuck to his head with perspiration. The urge to reach up, gently unglue those wayward curls and brush them back made his fingers tingle. It’ll be okay, kid.

But Liam would never allow it. And once Casey finally uttered what he was about to say, Chuck would never allow it.

“You didn’t explain,” Liam said. He shifted the holster and drew out his gun, surveying the area before he climbed down. “Get on with it, Johnnie.”

Might as well get it over with. Casey sighed and said, “The kid’s father is waiting at the river up ahead.”

“Mmph?!” Those dark eyes immediately closed off. If Chuck was struggling before, well, that was nothing compared to what the little shit was doing now. Casey was thankful not to be within range. He knew the kid could get some thrust behind an elbow when he put those skinny arms to work. “Uh-uh!”

“Out here?” Barely giving the kid a look, Liam decided to tamp down the rebellion by taking Chuck’s arm and pulling him down from the horse. As soon as he had Chuck on his feet, Liam wrapped an arm around his middle and transferred his gaze in a mocking show of disbelief. “In the middle of nowhere? How naïve do you think I am, Johnnie?”

“Trust me. I wouldn’t make that mistake,” Casey said, trying his best to avoid the glare in his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m well aware of your methods.”

“You of all people should be.”

“And I’m well aware of how almighty your promises are.” He delivered it with sarcasm, though he knew being a wiseass was not going to help the situation. Truthfully, after watching those grubby hands on his things, he wasn’t in the mood to play nice. “You can tell those goons who have been following us for the past mile to keep out of my sight. They may be your little safety blanket, comforting and all, but I think you know that if I wanted you dead by now, you’d be dead.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. The revelation that he had been caught forced an expression cold enough to freeze the air between them. A few fingers slid under Chuck’s waistband to pull him back up against his body, and even Chuck, his brown eyes wide, seemed to have stopped breathing. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, laddie. Not to say I’m surprised you detected our somewhat surreptitious friends. In fact, in a way, it’s pleasing to see. Humph. Can you blame me for feeling the teacher’s pride of his student’s abilities?

“Had nothing to do with you,” Casey said. “Maybe next time you should hire better help.”

“I had better help ... at one time, didn’t I, Johnnie?” Liam smiled, shrugged before turning to his hostage. “Come here, boy,” he said, using the hold on his britches to steer him ahead. “Perhaps you can walk on those clumsy feet for me.”

“Noph.” Chuck breathed in short huffs through his nose and tried to dig his heels in, but that got him nowhere with Liam. Well, except a nice a shove from behind, sending the kid stumbling ahead into a ditch tangled with cross vines. With his hands still tied, he had no way to stop. “Damph!” he choked out, giving an irritated look when he straightened. Liam wasn’t the only target of that particular brand of ire, Casey saw, and there was no doubt Chuck was madder than hell at both of them.

Sorry, pancake. I know you don’t get it. Casey wondered how much groveling this would take once they got out of here. But right now, he was more concerned at the rough treatment. Nothing hurt him more, even having to take a few stray bullets from time to time, than watching the kid get pushed and manhandled.

At the next shove, Casey’s muscles under his shirt rippled and shuddered, just alive beneath the surface and ready to pounce. “Why don’t you save it for someone who can fight back?” he mumbled. “Not some skinny, beat-up, helpless kid.”

“Does it bother you, Johnnie?” Liam smirked. “When I do this?”

“Fuph!” The next shove sent Chuck down to his knees in the dirt.

Casey could only blame himself for that one. “You’re wasting time,” he said, turning away from them and picking up the pace on the trail. If he didn’t watch, Liam wouldn’t have to put on a show, but on the other hand, Casey could only imagine the look Chuck gave him right then for leaving him in the dirt.

“You’d be best not to waste time with your threats, boyo. You may have picked up on my ... collaborators – just a judicious move on my part – but make no mistake, Johnnie.” Liam slowed down, those bear-like paws on Chuck’s upper arm pulling him back to keep his prize in check. “You have a better chance of ending this charade face down in that river than killing me. Now, I’m going to ask again, where’s the money?”

“Over here.”

Casey and Liam suddenly couldn’t spin around fast enough. Casey’s hand flew down to his holster by reflex and came up empty, though Liam already had his gun pointed directly at the intruder who had stepped out from behind a wide tree trunk.

“Oh, Goph....” It was then that Casey forced himself to look over at his lover. Chuck had spotted the newcomer and reared back like fractious, long-legged colt, smacking straight into Liam. “Uph!”

In retaliation, the larger man just about cracked his arm with the hold to keep him still. “Easy, boy,” Liam ordered, jerking his head at his hostage. Seeing that Chuck definitely had plenty to say about this, he eyed the gag speculatively before taking hold of it. “On second thought, I do believe I want to hear this happy reunion.” In one quick tug, he slid the cloth down, freeing the kid’s mouth.

Ah, shit.

“Casey ... please,” Chuck blurted, awfully close to begging. Not the good kind, either, because now there was an ache behind his dark eyes. “You... can’t!”

Casey glanced over, ready to coerce him into silence if he had to, but he couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were shaking. It made him feel even more like a heartless bastard. Had he made a mistake, pushed him too far? What else did he not know about that damn thing in the kid’s head? “Chuck ....” he murmured. “Just get back.”

“Good luck getting him to listen to you.” Charles Adams inclined his head, inspecting his son with contempt while his son did the same to his father. Funny, but here, deep in the woods, Adams looked startling out of place. The starchy cutaway coat and trousers had a lot to do with it, or maybe because everything about his avaricious posture was so wrong. “I assume you’re looking for this, gentlemen,” Adams went on to say, patting the canvas satchel Casey had packed and handed off to Sabine. At least that part was falling into place, Casey thought, though he wondered what was behind the smug look on the man’s face.

He didn’t have long to speculate. With a shrug, smile still intact, Adams reached into the bag, and when his hand reappeared, it held an ebony-handled Francotte Pinfire.

Casey would bet his beloved Vic that he knew where it came from. Now he was staring down the barrel of the doctor’s own pistol.

“Oh, hell,” he breathed in that first split second. Would it be too much to catch just one Goddamn break? Squinting over at the man, Casey said, “Mind telling me where the hell you got that?”

Adams was about to open his mouth to reply. But thinking better of it, he glanced to the left, just as something moved around the trunk of the tree to slip around the other side.

The angle of the shadows made it difficult to see, but Casey needed no more than a vague impression to recognize the man, still wearing Casey’s own clothes and carrying something in his hand.

The question of how it could get worse was answered, plain and simple.

Bryce Larkin pointed Casey’s own Colt 45 directly at his chest. It was the one he had loaned the Moron just last night. “I might know something about that,” Larkin said, pretending to look contrite when he tipped his head to the side and smiled. “Hello, Casey. Miss me?”

x-End Chapter Fifteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Sixteen

-x-

“Morgan, why didn’t you tell me you’ve never shot a real gun before?”

“Dude, I carry a slingshot! Did I really need to say something? I mean, couldn’t you pick up on the visual cues?”

“Did you have to practice and leave the holster strap undone?”

“I’m sorry man.” Morgan wagged his head dejectedly. “”This is all my fault.”

Morgan looked so depressed that Devon scrambled to make up for it. “No way, man. Don’t think you have to take the fall. You weren’t the one who stole the gun and threatened to shoot us.”

It wasn’t just Bryce Larkin sticking in Devon’s craw. He should’ve never let John Casey and the fearfully well-armed Amazon woman talk him into this. He was a doctor, for crying out loud! As a rule, his profession hated violence since it had an inevitable way of leading to the destruction of the human body. Something that was entirely against the grain his schooling and, honestly, his genteel Southern upbringing.

Heck, he wasn’t built for this.

Unless it came to that Bryce Larkin.

Because if he ever laid eyes on that no good, slithering snake again, Devon would punch his lights out for this little stunt.

Devon glanced over at his walking partner, who was currently slapping at a mosquito buzzing his head. Morgan seemed to be keeping up at least, even though he had shorter legs and was sweating like a man who doesn’t get much exercise. Maybe they should’ve stayed on the road instead of cutting through the forest. But if Devon recalled the trail route properly, it had a few things going for it. Taking the road would’ve put them out in the open, unarmed – again, dang that Bryce! – and though the narrow path was mostly covered with long grass or the random moss-covered fallen log, it crossed the river up ahead without meandering along it for another mile or so.

And getting to Bryce before he got to Casey and Chuck’s dad was more important than getting slapped in the face by yet another branch or getting his boot stuck in the mud.

Why in the world did they trust Chuck’s ex-friend anyway? Well, it didn’t matter. It was too late to second guess now.

“Doing okay there, Morgan?” Devon asked, looking past his shoulder at the bearded man. They still had a good three miles, perhaps four at a fairly decent pace to catch up. The dank, woodsy air was thick with gnats circling. Overhead, crows in the branches cawed their warning. All the trees were shapeless masses, able to easily hide a man, and he felt much colder than the chilly air in the forest justified. “Need me to slow down?”

“Heck no, man. I’m fine, fine.” Morgan stopped dead for a moment and scanned the trees. “Tell me again why we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking this way through the woods instead of the road?”

“Because the men who have Chuck might be watching the road.” He turned back to Morgan and did an about face in order to help him untangle spindly branches of a briar bush stuck to his shirt. “Or Bryce could be up ahead on the main road, and if we hurry, we can beat him to the bridge. Hey, hold still.”

Devon got to work as fast he could, unfastening the pesky briars while Morgan reached behind himself to pluck them off his pants.

“Ow.” Morgan’s hand reappeared from his nether region and he waved a finger with a prickly ball stuck to it. “Dang things. Um, would you mind, uh -”

“I’ll let you take care of the ones on your backside.”

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry, man.” Muttering at his bad luck, Morgan reached behind his back again. A little herky-jerky dance seemed to be his last ditch effort to remove the stubborn briars. At least Devon hoped that’s what it was, and not a seizure. “You know what this teaches us?” Morgan asked.

“Never sit in a briar patch?”

“No, no, man. Well, okay, yes, that too. But what I meant is that Casey was right about one thing. Never trust a man that pretty!” Morgan nodded at the wisdom until something occurred to him. He wrinkled his nose as his eyes traveled over Devon, darting up and down. “Uh, no offense, dude.”

“What? Hold still.”

“Well, look at you.” Morgan’s hands swept over him before making a paddling motion. “All that handsomeness in one pool, those little guys swimming and fighting for the -”

“Whoa. Put your hands down.” Devon sped up the pace of plucking off those little suckers if it would help end the demonstration. “Almost done. Then we can get going again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Either way – that’s not my point. My point is why on God’s green earth are we going after Bryce when we should be going after Casey. We can help, man!”

Devon shook his head. “Afraid not, Morgan. Our job was to watch Bryce, remember? So we need to catch up with that little double-crosser before he finds Casey.”

“How do you know that’s where he’s going?”

“Because he wants something. I don’t know what he’s up to, but we know its trouble.” The doctor grabbed Morgan’s arm to steer him back on the path before the smaller man backed into another prickly bush. “There. I think that was the last one.”

“Look at us. I messed up. Bryce has my gun now – oh, and de facto – a gun John Casey loaned me on threat of death not to lose!”

“I’ll let you explain that one to the big guy.”

“What can I say? I had a weak moment.” As Morgan made one last check over the back of his pants, Devon wanted to tell him Casey would be fine with it. But he had an inkling the larger man wouldn’t see it that way. “Anyway. I hate to bring it up, but there’s one tiny detail, man.”

“What’s that?”

“Bryce still has the guns,” Morgan said, slapping Devon on the arm. “How are we going to stop him if we do catch up with the snake?”

How was he supposed to know? Devon’s head was still spinning from Bryce pointing a gun at his face, tying him up, and stealing his horse. “Let’s worry about finding him first. Then we can –”

“Well, well, well, Simon,” a voice drawled from somewhere too close. ““Lookit what we have here.”

The men whirled to see a figure make his way carefully through the branches, a bulky coat covering a wide set of shoulders.

“Oh, no,” Morgan mumbled.

Something– correction, two somethings - edged out of the shadows from behind a pine tree they had walked past during Morgan’s run-in with the cockles.

Devon squinted, and he could make out both of them now. Goons, large men, shabby in their blue jeans and matching brownish-smiles, strolled onto the path. It gave Devon a modicum of relief that they were smiling – until enough detail filtered in to inform him that both men were holding guns pointed straight at them. “Hello?” the doctor said, pasting on a smile. “We didn’t realize we had company.”

The men exchanged a smirk. “These boys look lost. Goin’ somewhere in a hurry, you two?”

Devon barely realized his hands were in the air until he glanced over at Morgan, who had given up on burrs and had his hands up as well. “Good – ah – good afternoon, sir,” the doctor said. “We’re only –um – well, trying to find –”

“Yeah, we are so lost, man,” Morgan broke in. He waved a hand with a confused gesture at the thick forest surrounding them. “Hey, maybe you can help us. We’ve been wandering for hours looking for the crossing to Knob Lick Creek. Or was it the Rifle River? Well, anyway, do you happen to know if this is the way to the Badger’s Mount?”

“Um, might want to crank it down a notch, bro,” Devon hissed.

“Yeah, listen to your fancy friend here.” The smaller of the two - small being relative here, Devon decided - merely cocked his gun, a nondescript revolver with no silver or markings. “Where do ya think yer going?

“Who m-me?” Devon forced a laugh. It didn’t sound nearly as debonair as he had hoped. “Who would be caught dead out here? We were just ... uh ....” Lacking a good enough reason, he held his hands out, trying to placate them with charm. “We’ll get out of your way, now, gentlemen.”

One of the purported gentlemen smiled, tilting a cheek in a way that accentuated a long scar. “Don’t move, Mr. Dandy.”

“What the heck is this even about?” Morgan asked. “My friend and I were only trying to –”

“Morgan, maybe you should let me handle this,” Devon suggested. “Now, if you two, don’t mind -”

“But I –” Morgan began.

“You. The short, ugly one. Yes, you,” the curly-haired bear of a man added, rolling his eyes at Morgan’s appalled expression. “Shet yer trap. You. Pretty Boy. Tell us what the hell yer doin’ out here.”

“Ugly? Now hang on,” Morgan said, sounding affronted. “Do you have something against traveling ventriloquists? Hey, have you even seen our show?”

Devon’s eyes slanted down at him, slightly filled with horror that Morgan was really going to do this. Whatever this was. “Morgan, I don’t think they want -”

“Ventriloquist?” The one called Simon squinted at him. “What in tarnation is that?”

“Seriously, you’ve never heard of The Great Lesters? Vaudeville?”

Devon wrestled down the urge to slap a hand over his partner’s mouth. “Listen, buddy, maybe they don’t want to stick around and hear about -”

“You know, I sense confusion on your part. Am I right? Man, you are missing out,” and Morgan gave them a bit of a smile. “See, you asked me to shut up, but really, I can do both. Because I do know how to throw my voice – oh, wait. Do either of you have a wooden box or – hey, I know I’m going out on a limb here – a cheeky-man puppet?”

Devon’s toe hit his ankle. “Ha,” he said, drawing their attention sharply back to the matter at hand. Most worrying of all, of course, were the guns pointed at their midsections. “What my friend here is trying to say is that our horses got away from us a little while ago. Spooked or something. We saw them heading in this direction. Maybe you’ve seen a light brown Arabian. White mark on her nose?”

“Sure, I seen horses like that. Haven’t you, Buster?” said one of the scruffy men. He grinned broadly, showing off a fine display of tobacco stuck between his teeth. “Oooh, lookit him. Yer a fancy one, aren’t ya?” The bruisers stalked in a few steps, beginning to round them like weasels circling mice. “You must think we’re stupid or somethin’. Is that it?”

“Of course not,” Devon offered with a nervous smile. It was a lie. To be honest, he was counting on the fact they had sluggish minds to go with their slow-moving eyes. Other than that, he had nothing to go on. “I know you fine lads are willing to help us locate our horse. Oh, and as a matter of payment, what the heck? There’s a silver dollar in it for you – first one who catches her.”

“Silver dollar. Puh.” Still grinning wildly, the man with the pimpled leering face turned to the other. “Can’t we just shoot ‘em? The boss said anyone following them would get a bullet.”

“Hey, man, we don’t want trouble,” Morgan said. “Just the horse. Though finding Mr. Peepers would double your -”

“Shut up!” Buster glowered him into silence and meandered over to stand on the path directly in front of them. It gave Devon a disquieting view of his vacant eyes and grey-peppered stubble. Oh, and the gun. “Tell us who yer workin’ for.”

“Nobody,” Devon said. “We’re just ... ah - ventriloquists!” Oh, hell. Did he really just say that?

“On the ground,” the tobacco-stained man said, pointing his gun at Morgan, then Devon. “Kneel. The first one to tell us what you know gets to live longer. Who are working for? What are ya doing out here?”

The goon holding Morgan forced him to the ground. As he landed hard on his knees, the little man made a noise somewhere between a groan and an ugh. “Working for?” he asked, flashing an uneasy look at the guard. “We’re being honest, bro. Just two guys looking for a horse with a puppet strapped to the – hey, I don’t see what the big deal is!”

“The big deal,” the one called Buster said as he hauled Devon to the ground next to Morgan, crashing his knees into the dirt, “is that you two are lying to us.”

Something grabbed the back of Devon’s neck, making him jump. The usual heap of charm wasn’t working as well as anticipated, he realized. Immediately, the doctor felt a backwash of panic, could hear Casey barking at him to ‘pull his head out’ and figure out how to take care of these two punks before they did what they threatened to do.

“We weren’t poking our noses anywhere,” Morgan said in a hurry. “I’m – I’m too young to die. And he’s too handsome.”

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Devon said a bit more tersely than necessary, but it was difficult to be polite after the painful collision his knees had just endured. “Let’s stop pestering the guy with the really scary gun pointed at our heads, all right? Maybe we can discuss this ... reasonably?”

Buster snorted. The sneer on his face said two bullets lodged behind their frontal lobes was about as reasonable as he could get. “You don’t listen so well, do ya, fancy pants? Well, since yer not willin’ to tell us who you work for, I think the best we can do is punch yer ticket for you.”

Simon laughed and drove the gun into the back of Morgan’s neck. “So we are gonna shoot ‘em?”

“Yeah, might as well. This here in-terrOgation is like barkin’ at a knot. Then we can search ‘em, at least. Find out who they are.” Buster leaned down in front of Devon to smirk. His foul breath was disgustingly warm on his face. “You take the little hairy one. I got the swell feller.”

“Wait. No!” Morgan spluttered. “You can’t do that!”

Devon decided not to point out the obvious. “Okay, okay, the truth?” he blurted, the disarming smile wiped away. “We’re looking for a man. About six feet tall, blue eyes, dark hair -”

“Perfectly combed dark hair,” Morgan interjected because he needed to. “Like a ... swoop. Wouldn’t you call it a swoop?”

“Um, you would remember him if you saw him,” Devon said through dry lips. “You could say he’s good-looking. Er, striking, as a matter of fact.”

The men’s bushy brows drew down. “We don’t know anyone like that.”

Devon would bet that silver dollar that was true. “Well, he stole my horse. We’re only trying to get her back. That’s all.”

“Shet your trap, asshole.” The minion holding Devon by the arm pushed him back down when he tried to get up. “We don’t care about any pretty man yer lookin’ for. Or yer horse.”

“Then we can go.” Devon started to get up.

“Naw. Even if you were tellin’ the truth, you saw us.” The barrel moved sharply, jarring against his temple. “Now we gotta kill you.”

“Can we agree on a plan that involves less killing?”

“More fun this way,” Buster explained. “Close yer eyes if you must.”

“Hang on,” Morgan said. “Nobody is getting shot.”

“Keep tellin’ yerself that.” Out of nowhere, Simon swung the butt of his rifle downward, straight to Morgan’s ribs, a jab that sent the smaller man sprawling into the dirt. He hit the dust with a grunt.

“Morgan! Buddy. Are you okay?” Devon’s automatic reaction was to lunge when he saw a man down or hurt. But as soon as he started to move, the gun shoved to his neck stopped him.

“Stay put, Dandy Boy. You won’t have to worry about your friend any longer.”

“I’m fine.” Morgan rose to his knees and dusted himself off, straightened his vest. “I don’t have that far to fall, right?”

Devon had to admire the bearded man’s spunk. Honestly, he was doing better than the doctor could fathom. Heck, his own body was vibrating like a loose wagon wheel, and though he did his best to keep his face calm, the façade was a direct contrast to the ugly grease boiling through his midsection.

These gorillas meant business. And they were going to die unless John Casey suddenly emerged from the pines, guns blazing.

“You have to believe us,” Devon said. “We don’t want trouble.”

“Yeah?” Simon’s grin turned sarcastic. “Try not to get his blood on my boots. These here are my only good pair.”

The scruffy man pushed his hat back on his head, a nervous twitch of excitement along one cheek. His eyes raked over both of them, pausing at the back of Morgan’s head, and finally at the fistful of Devon’s collar he held, down to the cool metal against his cheek. “Ready? Shoot ‘em.”

Devon, with that gun looming next to his temple, did the only thing that came to mind. He slammed his elbow into the side of Buster’s chest, under the ribcage, a delicate area even for a man that size. That’s what his textbooks said.

The man cursed, placing one hand on his side, but didn’t seem to budge. “Git on the ground, boy! Hey, what’s -”

Devon dropped. Not that he had planned it that way. Something had pushed him. His chest slammed into the ground in a painful jolt of impact. “What the -”

It happened like lightening. A movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. Casey had told him to be ready for anything, but he had no idea what he meant.

Because even as he rolled and looked up, Sabine’s arm shot out, and she fired four shots, ringing in quick succession like the snap snap snap of fireworks.

“Holy shit ....” Devon ducked his head to the ground.

Next to him, the two hooligans hit the dirt with a thud, bullet holes like polka dots decorating the front of their chambray shirts. “Goddamn – who’re y-you?”

She racked her rifle. Two more shots cracked the air. Their bodies collapsed with barely a sound in a limp heap on top of each other, blood jetting in spurts from the holes in their chests.

A shadow fell over them. Sabine stood glowering down at the dead men, her rifle still pointed. “Assholes” she muttered. With her brown duster skimming the ground, she spun around to assess her cohorts. “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here? I told you to stay with Bryce. Merde! Why can men never listen?”

“Son of a – did you see that, man!” Morgan, still dazed, scuttled away and climbed to his feet. “She just – just – are they dead?”

Sabine shrugged and lowered her rifle only slightly in case there was a need to pluck off another if someone popped out of the woods. “No worries. If not I have a few more slugs ready to go.” She turned to Devon, lying on the ground with his hands over his head. “Doctor, are you okay?”

Feeling dizzy and numb, Devon nodded. Or at least it was something like jerking his head up and down. He wasn’t entirely sure his brain had caught up. “You ... shot them. Who – who are ... were those guys?”

“Thugs hired by Liam,” Sabine said, unbuckling one of the dead man’s holsters. She relieved him of a Cooper Double Action he’d no longer need, and shifting those dark almond-shaped eyes around the clearing, she then turned to him. “They’ve been tracking John and his ex-boss for a few miles now. Setting up for an ambush, the dirty bastards.”

“But – how did you know?” Devon asked, running a hand through is hair. It came back soaked.

“After I left the kid’s dad in the meeting place – that pompous ass - my job was to stop anyone who would try to interfere. You could say it’s accomplished now, oui?”

Devon swallowed. Put like that, so pragmatically, it made sense. Until, he thought, it didn’t make sense at all. Killing. Men following Liam into the woods to shoot Casey, maybe Chuck. Why were a country doctor and a shopkeeper in the middle of this?

“How did they find us?” Morgan asked. He rubbed at his neck, as though testing it was still connected to the rest of him.

“The better question, Monsieur, is how did they not find you?” With considerable presence of mind, Sabine methodically swiped the other ruffian’s gun from the dirt. “The two of you sounded like a flock of geese fighting over the last bread crumb. A good thing, I suppose, since it was easy to find your trackers you picked up a half mile ago.”

“They followed us for a half mile?” Morgan asked, shaking his head. “Man, how did we not see that?!”

Sabine rolled her eyes and leaned over Devon. “Doctor?” she repeated, and her demeanor softened. All at once, she looked like the woman he remembered from last night, the one sharing dinner over the campfire. Not one who had just killed two men with a rifle. “Speak.”

“This ... this was my fault,” Devon said.

“Not your fault,” Sabine muttered, stroking his hair. She glanced over at Morgan’s pale face. “Boys, I need you to focus. I need you to be strong for Ca – for Chuck, okay? Make no mistake, mes amies. Those men on the ground there? They had no qualms about putting two bullets in your heads – and they were going to do it. You understand that, oui? You were dead men.”

Devon nodded again slowly and swallowed hard. He averted his eyes from the men in the grass next to him, instead focusing on the shining waves of hair about her face. “I ... believe you.”

“Good. Now get up. We’re leaving.”

“We are?” Devon gave her an odd look. When it became obvious she was waiting for him to get to his feet, he got up, his body rigid. “Why are we going with you?”

“I can’t leave you here now by yourselves,” Sabine said, pushing a wisp of dark hair away from her face. “Too dangerous. You must be quiet, however.”

“But – but hold on!” Morgan cut in, looking mystified. “Even if you gave us those guy’s guns -”

“Which is out of the question. I’ve seen you two with weapons. Besides, you’d never be able to use them.”

“But we’re not going to be able to do anything,” Morgan said. “How are we going to help?”

“You’ll help,” Sabine told them, slinging her rifle onto her back. Appraising their bewildered expressions, she folded her arms over her chest and stared at them keenly. “The two of you were never meant for this. It’s against your grain. Both admirably, and regretfully. But listen carefully. You’re a doctor, you’re a friend – and that is what ... someone may need after today.”

Chuck may be badly hurt, Devon heard in the unspoken words.

“Follow me. In silence,” Sabine added, pointing her eyes directly at the shorter man. “Walk exactly in my footsteps. Avoid the twigs. Stay low. Try not to get shot.”

“Oh, good points – er, especially the last one,” Morgan observed.

The edge in her voice told Devon that she was just as nervous about her friends as they were, if not more. In a way, it was unsettling that something could shake the unflappable Sabine. “Whatever you say.” Devon cast one last look around the clearing, wanting to get out of there as quick as possible. “Lead the way.”

The woman tipped her head towards the path and began trotting along nearly silently. Devon sighed at her back and took up the middle position, while Morgan followed at the end. Not twenty paces behind them, and he heard the bearded man begin the nervous chatter. “Hey, hey, man,” he whispered loudly. “Is it me ... or is she kinda hot?”

“Hot?”

“Did you see her? Swooping in like that? Listen, Listen,” and Morgan mercifully lowered his voice, “Do you think I stand a chance with her? I mean, can a woman like that for fall for a, er, compact shopkeeper with a good sense of humor from Kioga?”

Devon slowed down and turned, cocking his head at him. As luck would have it he had rounded just in time to see Morgan lick his thumb and quickly smooth it over one eyebrow and then the other. “Morgan – I – I don’t really know how to -”

“I know, I know. Geez. Shutting up now. But, hey – think about it, all right?”

\--x-

The question of how it could get worse was answered, plain and simple.

Bryce Larkin pointed Casey’s own Colt 45 directly at his chest. It was the one he had loaned the Moron just last night. “I might know something about that,” Larkin said, pretending to look contrite when he tipped his head to the side and smiled. “Hello, Casey. Miss me?”

Casey tucked his thumb in his holster and eyed the little fucker for a moment. “So far I have,” he told him, “but I’m feeling lucky today.”

Bryce subsided, his smile replaced by a glare. He peered down cautiously to ensure Casey wasn’t holding a gun, blinked at his empty hand, and said, “Your humor aside, Casey, I can tell you’re surprised. Thought you had taken all of our weapons last night? Do you really think you’re dealing with two tenderfoots?”

“The guns look familiar.”

“They should,” Bryce said calmly. “I took them off of your friends this morning – and in case you’re wondering, they’re fine.” He cocked his head to one side, considered him thoughtfully. “A bit tied up at the moment, but fine.”

“Bloody Christ, what a sight.” Adams pointed his gun at Casey, but his eyes were glued to his son. “Hello, Charles. It’s good to finally catch up again. Another goose chase you took me on, wasn’t it? I’m afraid this will be the last one, boy.”

Chuck scowled. “Because you’ll never find me again after this.”

Adams snorted deprecatingly. “Still delusional, I see.”

“Sorry, Chuck.” Bryce let out a deep, resigned breath, dripping with fake remorse. Hell of an acting job. “I told you it was going to end this way, one way or another. You should’ve let me take you to town without putting up a ruckus. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Never had Casey wished to have a gun in his hand more than in that moment. Squinting at the little weasel, he then slanted a look at his boyfriend to see how that chip would fall. It pleased him, then, to see the kid rise up to his full height, eyes shining brightly. “You utter bastard,” Chuck said, staring directly at Bryce. “This is my fault, huh? I wouldn’t let you drag me to my father yesterday, so you brought him to me. Geez, remind me again what a great friend you are – how did that go? ‘My best interest at heart’? God, amazing. Just amazing.”

Bryce had the audacity to look apologetic at the kid. “I still stand by what I said. All of it. Again, I’m sorry what happened to you ....” He motioned, a bit embarrassed, up and down Chuck’s dirt-smudged, bruised body. “I would’ve liked things to be different – for both of us. But unfortunately for your boyfriend, we’re the ones with the guns now. That means it’s all going to work out for you, even though you won’t think so. You’ll see.”

The look Chuck shot him said he saw right through it, all right, and despite everything, it was a point that amused Casey to no end. If Chuck had any lingering naiveté about his pal, it was long gone.

Casey cleared his throat. Chuck jolted and turned, giving Casey a view into those dark eyes, which didn’t immediately soften for him as much as he would’ve liked. Chuck had enough ire to throw around for both of them, Casey guessed. For now, he had to ignore it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little butt-kissing routine, Larkin, but you can see the kid is finally on to you.”

“On to me?”

“Lying, cheating, stealing ....”

“I never stole anything from him.”

Casey grunted. He sure as hell did. On top of that, he didn’t like the way Bryce was eyeing the kid, nor did he think Chuck was up to the taunting. A surge of protectiveness had him folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t say another word to him. He’s heard enough of your shit to last two lifetimes.” Which was one and a half more than this little dickhead was going to have, he thought as he turned to face Liam. “I believe we are all here to strike a deal. So, if you don’t mind, let’s put an end to the happy-ass pleasantries, and get this wrapped up.”

“Have somewhere to go, Johnnie?” Liam asked. He stood by a tree with Chuck, holding him so close it was hard to see where they weren’t touching. One arm was wrapped around the kid’s chest, the other held the wood-handled Remington pistol. “It’s been so long since we’ve chatted ... you and me. Not in a hurry, are you?”

Casey edged up to Liam so that his shoulder blocked Bryce and Adams from view. He could almost hear Chuck’s heart thudding through his chest while those wide brown eyes searched him over. “Stop dicking around. Adams has the money. We don’t need to drag his out.” The kid’s been through enough bullshit, hasn’t he?

Liam smirked at all of them, possibly and probably enjoying their discomfort a little too much. “Hear that, boy? Your ... partner’s quite eager to get you back in his ...hands.” The asshole meant bed right then, clear as day. “Wonder what he has in store for you?” Lowering his voice, loud enough for only Casey and Chuck to hear, he whispered, “It’s a shame we have other plans. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Casey stole a glance at Chuck, suddenly looking pale and on the brink of expelling the contents of his stomach in the dirt. He was worn out with pain and simple exhaustion, but fear and loathing played over his features. “You about done playing with baby bear?” Casey asked. “Because if you are, maybe you wanna take a turn with Papa Bear. You said you wanted to strike the deal. So, strike, or I’ll make the deal with him.”

“With what,” Liam growled. His hand slid up to Chuck’s neck, fingers dug in.

Casey brought his eyes away from where the fingertips turned his flesh white. “I’m still the only one who knows where your haul is.” He made a purposeful look around them at the dense forest, then over to the edge of the creek where Bryce and Adams stood. The low, droning sound of water rushing around the rocks and the pungent scent of ferns rising around them laid emphasis on the futility of a search. “Bet you’ve been looking under every rock between here and Carson City for it.”

“You have a good point.” Liam chuckled, lifted his arm and stuffed the barrel of his gun against the kid’s temple. Chuck winced and finally looked up at Casey, hands clasped in front of him in the ropes. “Where’s the money?”

“Just a minute,” Bryce said. He didn’t shrink down when both Liam and Casey turned their fierce glares on him. “I’m the one that should be asking that question. I’ve come through with my part of the bargain.” He motioned his gun at Chuck. “Five thousand dollars. Payable to me right now, Mr. Adams.”

“You do not help your case by continuing to ask for something you haven’t earned yet.” Adams narrowed his eyes to slits. His hand tightened on the bag, as the greedy bastard had been closely guarding it under his arm since he rode up with Bryce at the slave shanty. “You’ll get it when I get what I came for.”

“I’m the one who has it, Adams,” Casey said. “And you’ll get it once you live up to your end of the bargain. Is that satchel empty, or did you come prepared?”

“Casey, you can’t do this,” Chuck stammered, attempting to give Liam an elbow. “I trusted you ....”

Casey felt guilt slide a nice little dagger between his ribs. It was probably wrong of him, but he wished Liam never removed the gag. He didn’t need to be told he was a giant asshole by the one man whose words could slay him. “Chuck, stay out of it.” Casey raised a brow at Adams. “Now we have the matter of –”

“Eight hundred thousand, I believe, was the figure we agreed upon,” Liam broke in. “From each of you.”

Bryce’s mouth swung open. “My price just went up. I want a bigger cut of the deal. None of this would be possible without me!”

“Yeah, we needed a twit to fuck things up sideways, so good work, Larkin.” As Casey sauntered closer, Bryce had the good sense at least to pull back a little. “Careful when you’re reaching into that bag, Adams. No more surprises.”

“You can’t cut me out!” Bryce argued. “Fifty thousand. That’s my new price.”

“You were never in, punk,” Casey answered.

Bryce gave a little cocky head gesture towards the gun aimed at Casey. “I’m going to get what I deserve.”

“Can’t believe you came up with something we actually agree on,” Casey told him.

“You know what I mean.” Frowning, Bryce eyed the bag before returning his focus to Casey. “So, who goes first?”

“It’s obvious.” Adams swung around to Casey, clutching the satchel in one hand and Devon’s gun in the other. “The ruffian gives me ... what I want –”

“Casey.” From behind him, Chuck’s voice cracked. “I – as your p-partner, I’m ordering you not to -”

“And then I take it and leave.” Adams tilted his head appraisingly at the kid, looking him over carefully. “Oh, yes. I’ve changed my mind about one thing. I’m leaving with my son, too. As back-up.”

“Like hell,” Casey and Liam said together.

“What?” Chuck asked, practically jumping backwards.

“You heard me,” his father said. “I need ... another copy.”

Immediately, Liam jabbed the gun in Chuck’s temple as a reminder of who would get to choose. “That’s not how this is going to work,” he said. “First, I get my money.”

Chuck’s eyes widened at Casey. Nervous and breathless he said, “Don’t let this happen.”

“Not until I get it, John,” Adams said to Casey, his voice steely.

“And my fifty thousand,” Bryce added, deliberately pulling back on the hammer. “In fact, I have an idea. Let’s just start there.”

“Hey - we can all come to an agreement here, I’m sure,” Chuck said. Perhaps forgetting he was the hostage/bargaining chip in this scenario, he tried to dislodge Liam’s arm and get between all of them. “We’re all reasonable people, aren’t we?”

“Sure of that, kid?” Casey asked with a half-lifted brow.

Chuck’s eyes darted from his dad, to Bryce, to Liam, and finally landed on his partner. “Oh. Scratch that.”

Casey groaned in his throat. One of these days he’d explain to the kid that his chatter was a little less endearing in life and death situations.

“But, hey – here’s the thing,” Chuck continued. “We all want something. And each of us has a card to play. Am I right? Well, except for Bryce, who only has a gun pointed at Casey. Which, by the way, would make me want to kick his ass even harder if I didn’t want to strangle my boyfriend for bringing my dad here!”

“Kid –”

“Anyway, my point being, we can, well, okay, how about this? We’ll all count to three together and switch.”

Casey kept his eyes on Chuck, imploring him to shut up.

“I know you don’t understand now, Chuck,” Bryce said, “but –”

Gunshots rang out. Close, nearly next to Casey’s ear. Even hearing them a thousand times, he perceptively jolted and turned to see who had unloaded a chamber.

Liam held his smoking pistol in the air, a mundane look on his face. At the first shot, Chuck had tried to hunch down, his eyes squeezed shut. It took a half second for Casey to realize the kid wasn’t hit, a second that stretched to eternity and back. Twin stabs of relief yet an ache for Chuck twisted his heart in two. His gaze finally came up to see Liam eyeing him steadily.

“Good, I have your attention,” Liam said, surveying the startled faces before turning to Casey with a curious smile. His voice lowered, only loud enough for Casey and Chuck to hear him. “How’d you do it, Johnnie?”

“How’d I do what?” Casey asked in a cool, level voice. The kid had yet to open his eyes, though it looked like he was breathing. Nothing like a gunshot going off next to your head to make your blood chase itself through the veins. He had gone pale beneath the smudges of dirt and red scratches on his cheeks.

“You did very well,” Liam said, and deciding Chuck had suffered enough for a moment, he gave him only one poke with the muzzle. “Your plan.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Liam took a deep breath, fixing his eyes resolutely on him as he shuffled the kid closer. “You took me away from my stronghold today. The plantation. And somehow, you managed to have my men killed. Oh, yes. I knew. The men who were obviously following us up until now.”

“What makes you so sure?” Casey said, matching the dryness of his tone. “I thought the agreement was clear.”

“Oh, come on, Johnnie. Don’t play with me.” Liam laughed, a surprisingly deep, jovial sound. “I know they’re dead. Somehow, someway, you made it happen. I know, because if they were alive, you’d be my prisoner already.”

“What?” Visible tension rippled along Chuck’s upper body. “Killed..?”

Liam ignored Chuck in his usual pattern. “I’d have my money, you ... and your boy here. We’d be on our way to the Edgewood.” He was frowning, those black eyes studying Casey’s face intently. “As of now, I only have one of those things.”

“Casey ....” Chuck started again, cut off when Liam’s other hand cupped his jaw and squeezed. “Owhp.”

“Right here,” Liam said, giving the kid’s face a little shake. “But I think it’s the right one.”

Chuck’s lanky body stiffened with tenacity and he held back another noise, instead giving him a stink-eye.

Casey stared at Liam without expression. Behind the mask, his insides tightened. Evidently Sabine took care of the men Casey knew would be tasked to follow them, though he hadn’t doubted her. It didn’t stop more worry and guilt from festering. What if she was hurt? What if there were more of them? And more importantly, what else did Liam anticipate? “I’m going to ask you one more time to drop the kid. This is between you and me.”

Liam smiled. “I told you, Johnnie. We’re way beyond that now.”

There was a reason behind that smile. “As long as you stayed clear of him, you could’ve come out of this with what you wanted.” Brave words for a man with no gun, Casey reckoned, but he braced himself for battle. He knew what that air of confidence on his boss could mean, witnessed it plenty when he was ready to go in for the kill.

“Just so you understand,” Adams called over, “my patience is wearing thin. I want it, John.”

“Casey, ignore him,” Chuck whispered harshly. “I don’t care ... what happens to me.”

Hearing such willingness to sacrifice himself was difficult to swallow. Casey struggled not to take the kid and give him a good shake. “We seem to be at a deadlock, then, Liam. I’m not giving him anything until you let the kid walk away.”

The click of a gun chamber being ratcheted sounded incredibly close to his head. Casey moved his chin to the side slightly and felt the gunmetal on the underside of his jaw.

“I knew,” Casey said as he sighed and shook his head only slightly, “the idea of a fair fight wouldn’t settle well with you, Liam.”

“Don’t move,” said an oily, familiar voice. “You might just wanna rethink your plan, Johnnie.”

At least one corner of Liam’s thin mouth moved up. “Maybe your comrades didn’t see him following a good way behind the others?”

Casey narrowed his eyes at Liam’s knowing mien. He would’ve moved back a step, but he couldn’t guarantee the gun to his head wouldn’t put a pretty little hole in his skull. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you had not one but two packs of snakes following us.”

“Hey, who are you?” Bryce stared in confusion for a split second until recognition hit him. “You’re one of the men who caught up with Chuck and me yesterday.”

“Yeah? Just be thankful my boss wouldn’t let me shoot you.” Demonstrating his ire, the short, hairy man spit on the ground. “Pretty-ass city boy. Taking us on a wild chase through the woods. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get my chance yet.”

“What is going on?” Adams demanded. “Who is this man?”

“Huh. I’m surprised you of all people wouldn’t recognize another living, breathing piece of shit when you find one.” Casey’s eyes flicked over to Chuck’s dad. “Seeing as you have so much in common.”

“I’d shut my mouth if I were you.” Rudy sounded remarkably pleased with himself, and why not? He had snuck up on Casey with a loaded gun, probably something he had dreamed about since the stand-off at the farm. “You’re not in charge here. We’re making the rules now.”

“Darn.” Casey shrugged, carefully, in case the trigger-happy Rudy misinterpreted the move for reaching for a gun he didn’t have. “I was going to suggest the first rule was for you to bathe one time this year.”

Over his shoulder, he heard Rudy growl. Whatever the dirty filcher looked like he was getting ready to do, the reaction was evident on the men watching. Chuck widened his eyes and sucked in a breath, while Liam merely shook his head at his crony, warning him not yet. “We’ve had it with your games, Johnnie-boy,” Rudy said, his tone dripping menace. “We’ve been chasin’ your ass for months. We want our money! You said it’s here. So where the hell is it?”

“Do you really think I’d leave it out in the open?” Casey asked, rolling his eyes. He needed to play it cool without wondering who he was fooling. But the slick layer of sweat on his back wasn’t from the day’s heat. Looking at Chuck, he felt a long line of muscles across his shoulders tauten. Freedom was the one thing he could give the kid, but a dozen things could go viciously south right now. “What if my ex-boss has ulterior motives?”

“What does that mean?” Rudy spit out, searching for answers between Casey and Liam. “He’s just stalling.”

Casey stopped as he gave a smart ass tip of his head to Rudy and then Liam. “It means the man who takes such pride in training me must’ve thought I was an idiot not to anticipate that move.”

Liam, who had been holding Chuck’s neck and rubbing a thumb on his throat, paused and peered back at him. Casey wished he knew exactly what he was thinking, but he looked pleased, which set off warning bells in Casey’s head. “Bravo, Johnnie. You’re lying. Leading me around like a bull in a ring. I think we need to draw this to conclusion, however.”

“At last, someone who sees this as I do.” Adams’ hand, the one holding the gun, had relaxed just the tiniest bit, but he clenched his fist and lifted it to Casey’s head. Apparently, one gun to the head wasn’t enough. “Get on with it, damnit.”

“Agreed,” Liam said, and the man released Chuck and gave him a push in Rudy’s direction. It happened so quickly that the kid could only stumble back before Rudy had immediately shifted so that he had an arm around Chuck’s neck, pulling the taller man into a stoop with the gun barrel pointed at the underside of his jaw. Though he had had one split second of freedom, Casey could see the kid was in no condition to run. “Nice catch.”

“C’mere, chicken,” Rudy mumbled, and Casey took no solace in the fact the gun went from his head to Chuck’s. “Still a good boy?”

Chuck’s eyebrows flew up and he stared straight ahead in shock at Casey. “If it’s not too much to ask, can I request one thing? Please, can people stop shoving a gun to my head?!”

“You both know how much I despise unpleasantries,” Liam said, dismissing Chuck without a look. “Bloodshed is just so ... messy, isn’t it?”

“Never were one to get your hands dirty,” Casey said.

“Precisely.” Liam nodded at Rudy. “Johnnie has ten seconds to either produce the money -”

“Or else?” Rudy asked, poking the kid in the jaw with the tip of gun.

Liam smiled. “Or else you shoot his boyfriend in the head, of course. I’m not in the mood to stand in the middle of the woods any longer with those two,” and he gestured towards Adams and Larkin, “having to explain what I really want. This isn’t the way I had hoped to see the kid die, but ... as long as Johnnie gets to see it, I’ll have to be satisfied, I reckon. Too bad. He seems like a nice boy. I would’ve liked to have found out how cooperative he can be.”

Casey’s face never changed, but he counted to five and sent up a prayer that he could have faith. He had a slight chance of wrestling the gun from Rudy before a bullet was lodged in Chuck’s brain. “Fuck you.”

Chuck briefly bit his lip hard, those dark eyes shifting between Casey and Liam. “Casey ... I don’t want you to ....”

Casey had approximately half a second to wonder if he could drive an elbow in Rudy’s face, knock the gun away, and shove Chuck to the ground in order to stop him. Far from being intimidated, Rudy pointed the gun right at Chuck’s forehead.

“Say good-bye, kid.” Rudy took a bead and squinted. Next to Casey, the click-shush of the bullet in the chamber sounded again.

It was followed by the clap of a single gunshot.

-x-

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the heavenly chorus to start.

He waited for his golden retriever, Ruger the Great, the excitable six-toed best friend a boy could ask for, to leap from a fluffy cloud and slather his face with welcoming dog kisses.

Hell, he even waited for his Aunt Millie, who always seemed to know he wasn’t quite like other boys, to pop out and inform him that, yes, in her version of heaven, God really didn’t care who he loved.

Well, okay. Assuming he had made it to the divine place.

None of that happened.

With his ears ringing, Chuck cracked one eye open, and then the other. There should’ve been a fountain of blood spewing from a brand new yet unneeded hole in his head, and even though every part of him felt as though he had been kicked by bulls, his body still felt whole.

What the hell had just happened?

If he had somehow died and passed on to the afterlife, why was he still here? It had to be a mistake that the afterlife looked suspiciously like the moss and logs at the base of a tree trunk. He could smell the wet grass and gunpowder, just inches from his nose; it was sharp and pungent. Even worse, a pair of boots was next to his head, evidently following him from the mortal realm to the afterlife, wherever it was, proving his clumsiness and propensity for falling to the ground had managed to stick with him through the Pearly Gates.

Oh, great.

Chuck, with his hands still tied in front of him, wriggled his shoulders and attempted to roll over like a helpless, befuddled turtle on its shell. This wasn’t heaven or hell. This was the woods where Casey was still planning on giving his father the one thing he should never have, and oh, God. It couldn’t happen.

As Chuck watched the feet stop at his head, he looked up to see Liam raising a gun, ready to fire. No, not again! Chuck ducked away and scrambled on his knees and stomach, trying to get anywhere the gun wasn’t. That gun barrel boomed, unfathomably loud over his head, more like a canon than a pistol.

That’s where Casey had been standing a heartbeat ago.

The kid listened. There was no thud of Casey’s body hitting the ground.

Chuck dared to lift his gaze, up and up. What the hell? He stared, numb, as Rudy stood in front of Casey, his gun no longer in his hand. Rudy’s hand clawed out blindly in agony, and his lips turned blue and flecked with spittle as he fought for breath.

“Ca-Casey?” Chuck whispered, seeing his lover grip the man’s shoulder to hold him up. “What?”

The shorter man’s face became a mask of shock, twisted grotesquely by fear. As Chuck blinked up at him, he felt his own breath, already racing alongside his heartrate, quicken like a rabbit, in pants and gasps. How did this happen? Why hadn’t the man killed him or Casey? No one missed from two inches away.

Why weren’t they dead?

It soon became clear. Rudy’s arm jerked spasmodically, shaking, traveling up until it rested above his belly. Now, and only after blinking again to clear his eyes, Chuck noticed the spreading crimson stain, the blood that came away on his fingers.

Rudy lifted his shirt, grunting. “You ... bastard, John Casey.” He looked down, and Chuck saw blood flowing down the man’s jeans. Somewhere, a rifle clacked, reloading. “Where – where n’ the fuck did that come from?”

Chuck’s startled eyes traveled from the man who came within a hairsbreadth of pulling the trigger to Casey, standing behind him and clutching Rudy’s shirt, and just like that, he understood.

Holy – but how?

A shot from somewhere outside of the clearing, somewhere unseen, had pierced his belly a millisecond before he could take Chuck’s head off. It gave Casey a last-ditch chance to grab the man’s pistol, the man who was now making a fairly decent human shield, even though Casey stood half a head taller.

Rudy tried to bend forward, but the powerful arm around him kept him upright. From the sounds he was making, Chuck thought that something was lodged in his windpipe. Rudy’s body quivered and he coughed, confirming the kid was right about his clogged throat. Not by the usual bread or meat. Blood spattered the ground and onto Casey’s boots.

Where in the hell had that rifle shot come from?

Rudy’s hand shook. With his jaws clamped rigid, he attempted to squirm out of Casey’s grip and reach for his gun, but it was already clenched in Casey’s other hand. His boyfriend, his light blue eyes cool as ice, quickly leveled it off to aim it at the person standing over Chuck.

“I would think twice before you do that, Johnnie,” Liam said. A hand reached down, and before he could move, Chuck was hauled to his feet and thrust in front of his captor, protecting him from the loaded gun in Casey’s hand. “It’d be a shame for you to be the one to put a bullet in the kid.”

Chuck stared straight down Casey’s barrel, wild-eyed. “Sorry, Casey! He’s faster than me – I just ... couldn’t.”

“None of this is your fault,” Casey growled. As his eyes cut over to Liam, he kept a tight hold on Rudy’s body, a very dead human shield, and his pistol. “Nice of your goon to loan me his gun. At least he was finally able to make himself useful.”

“I see you brought your own partnership, Johnnie,” Liam observed, gave a fleeting glance at the thick trees where the bullet had come from. “How very unlike you. I always thought of you as a loner.” There was a pause while his huge hand slipped around Chuck’s chest, and he pulled him against his torso. “Well, until you found this one, at least.”

“I hate you,” Chuck muttered uselessly, feeling his cheeks turn red. “Be a good boy and let me go.”

“We have to get out of here,” Bryce called out. Shaken up by the shots that had come from somewhere in the forest, he looked around, searching for a sign of the killer. “It’s too dangerous now. Give him the money, Casey, and then you and Chuck’s dad can flip a coin to see who gets to take him home.”

“Gee, thanks, Bryce,” Chuck said, hating him even more, “but isn’t it someone else’s turn to be the human collateral?”

“Stay out of it, Bartowski,” Casey rumbled.

“His name is Adams.” Though Liam had tightened his hold, Chuck angled around enough to see his father sweep his eyes over him. “I told you, my son is crazy. Enough of the games, John. Give me what I want.”

“First things first, I’m afraid,” Liam said, and again Chuck felt something cold stuffed to his temple. “Tell your friend to get out here in the open ... or I will kill your boy.”

Even the kid, with his next-to-nil experience at hostage situations, knew that was a bad idea. “Don’t – don’t let him, Casey.” And don’t you dare give him the Cipher.

From the tightening of Casey’s jaw, Chuck knew he didn’t have a choice. All four men waited silently, guns pointed, until a figure stepped out from behind a stand of trees, huge brown duster and hat swallowing him up.

Wait. Her?

“Sabine?” Chuck breathed. “What – what are you doing here?”

“Saving your asses,” she said, reluctantly putting her hands up. “Until now.”

“Drop it,” Liam ordered, motioning past Chuck’s head with his gun before plastering the tip to the kid’s temple again. “On the ground.”

Chuck saw Sabine eyes flick around at the men, taking in the odds. Casey waited, and after a silent deliberation, nodded that she should do it.

“Merde.” Sabine dropped the rifle to the ground in indignation and turned back to face Liam. “Hurt either of them, and I’ll still find a way to kill you.”

The audacity had Liam chuckling. “A woman?” He turned Chuck with a slight shove in order to get a better look at her. “Bloody hell. Too bad you’re hooked up with Johnnie. Oh, Yes.... I could use someone like you, Peach.”

Casey didn’t look away from Liam, his arm straight and steady pointing the gun at his head. Which, Chuck realized, was damn near in the same vicinity as his own head. “I don’t plan on dropping mine, so don’t even ask. Now let go of the kid, and we can deal.”

“Hang on,” Bryce said, re-aiming his gun at Casey. “Maybe in all the excitement, you forgot about one little detail, Casey, but no one is making any kind of a deal until I get my money.”

“You get nothing,” Adams told him. “You had nothing to do with finding him, you little idiot. Let the adults untangle this.”

“I came through with my part of the bargain. There’s Chuck.” Bryce turned stiffly towards Chuck’s dad. “I want my money.”

“Run along and go play,” his father said in that glib tone of his. Chuck hated that tone, even though for once it wasn’t directed at him.

When Bryce pushed his free hand through his hair, contemplating, Chuck felt an oh-no begin to form. He recognized that vague gesture. Bryce always did that right before he seemed to make a decision that the kid knew he wasn’t going to like.

After a minute, Bryce shook his head and shrugged. “I hate for it to come to this.”

Chuck blinked several times and asked what everyone was thinking. “To ... what?”

“This. There’s only one way, I guess, to get what I deserve,” Bryce said slowly. He looked around the clearing one more time, sighed -

And without hesitation, he swung his aim from Casey straight to Chuck.

“Sorry, Chuck,” his ex-roommate said.

“Bryce, what – what are you doing?” Chuck didn’t understand why he was looking down the barrel of Bryce’s gun, but he tried to back up a step or two until he felt Liam’s chin bump his crown. “Is that a loaded gun?” Good going, Mr. Obvious, but his brain was beginning to spin. “Why ..?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Chuck, but your nice boyfriend there isn’t leaving me any choice. It’s nothing personal, right, buddy? Just business.”

“Just business?” Chuck blurted. His reflexes made him want to lunge for his ex-friend, but Liam was having none of that. Not that Chuck could do any more than kick him, since his stupid hands were still tied behind his back. “You did not just say that!”

“If there’s no Chuck, there’s no deal,” Bryce went on, his eyes drilling into Casey. “I will kill him, Casey, I will. So now that we understand each other, just go get the bag, reach into it, and give me my due. In fact, while you’re at it, you can be the one to double it. One hundred thousand dollars and I’ll be out of here. You can finish your business.” He paused to take a gander at his ex-friend. “Look at it this way, Chuck. You’ll get out of here, go home with your father, and get away from him. Someday, you’ll consider me your hero, okay?”

Casey made a noise in the back of his throat, so much like an angry wolf that Chuck had to blink.

“And that’s what you think is going to happen?” Chuck snapped back at him. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve got it all wrong, hero. Is it impossible for you to admit that everything you do is for Bryce, with no regard for anyone else?”

“I’ll handle this, Bartowski,” Casey said. So shut it, was the unspoken command that the kid heard loud and clear.

His lover seemed calm – but that all went to hell when he rotated his arm. In a move that surprised even Liam, Casey dropped Rudy to the ground like a sack of flour. Heavy, dead, flour. As soon as the hairy man hit the dirt, another gun sprouted from Casey’s other hand. That one zeroed in on Bryce’s chest while the other stayed pointed at Liam.

“Nice of Rudy to keep my preferred Colt in his belt for safekeeping.” Casey looked bored as he twisted the gun a little in one hand. “Wondered how I’d get it from the little fucker after he lifted it from me this morning.”

“It was his mistake,” Liam replied dryly. He pivoted ever so slightly, turning Chuck with him to block any shot if Casey even considered taking the risk. The gun jabbed in hard with a brutal thrust, getting the wince from Chuck he had to be after. “I’ll remind you, Johnnie. I don’t make mistakes like that.”

Because Bryce and Liam stood at least thirty feet apart, Casey had a one-handed grip on each gun, holding the pistols with his hands now a few feet apart. Chuck wondered how one man could aim down two guns at two targets from divergent directions, but he was too busy being slightly impressed at the badass show of force from his boyfriend.

Whoa. God, brain, now?! Now, you have to remind me how hot he is?

Chuck shook his head, trying not to focus on arms as big as decent-sized tree trunks keeping steady as Casey squared off his shooting stance, first squinting at Liam and then Bryce.

Finally settling on Bryce wasn’t a mistake. By now, Chuck was beginning to recognize that dangerous flick to Casey’s aqua eyes. A combination of ice, steel, black powder and round-nosed bullets. Honestly, he wondered how Bryce kept from wetting himself. “Good choice of words,” Casey said, eyeing him down one barrel. “I’ve been waiting for months to give you what you deserve.”

“Skip the theatrics, Casey,” Bryce replied. “Just do it.”

“Always nice to get permission from the target.” Casey murmured. His thumb shifted, cocking the hammer. “Not customary, but nice.”

“That’s not what I meant.” In defiance, Bryce recoiled only a bit and his grip tightened on his gun. “The money, Casey.”

Casey set his finger on the trigger.

“What – what are you doing?” Bryce asked.

“Something I should’ve done three days ago in my hotel room.”

“Three – hotel room?” Chuck’s brows shot up. “Did I miss something?”

Oddly, Liam chuckled against the kid’s hair. What was that all about? He reached around Chuck to pull him against his body even closer, though it made him drop his aim on Casey. For some reason, Liam sensed he could get away with it. It was as if he knew what was about to unravel.

Casey grimaced at the question posed by Chuck, but otherwise ignored it. By his body language, a permutation of something the kid pegged as crouching tiger/angry bear, his boyfriend was utterly focused on Bryce. “I knew that nothing good was going to come from you, Larkin. You pissed through every chance I gave you. The funny thing is, you think that yesterday was what sealed your fate. Bringing his dad to me.”

“I’ll do it.” When Bryce looked at Chuck, something shifted in his eyes, something that made the kid’s innards go still. “I’ll shoot him, Casey.”

“I think he means it,” Chuck pointed out quickly. His breath labored from Liam’s pressure on his chest.

“But that wasn’t it at all,” Casey went on in his death-rumble. “Want to know when? It was back at the kid’s farm, a place you never knew, the place I met him ... one night when he told me what happened. What you did to him.”

“It was a lie,” Bryce announced flatly, eyes shifting to Chuck and back.

“I knew right then,” Casey explained, implacable, “that it was going to come down to this. One day, somewhere, somehow, I’d be the one to do it.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m going to do it.” Bryce’s hand wasn’t even shaking. “I’ll -”

“In fact, I made a promise to myself that I would. And this is one promise I intend on keeping.” The trigger finger twitched. Tightened. After the briefest hesitation, his aim moved from Bryce’s chest ... to his head.

“What are you doing?” Bryce’s eyes blew wide. “Chuck, tell him to stop. I’m only here to save you, buddy!”

“Let me help you with that,” his outlaw-boyfriend said.

Casey simply moved forward a step, every muscle rigid, and unloaded an entire chamber into Bryce Larkin, Harvard graduate, accountant, ex-friend, rapist. Chuck stared in dazed horror as the Colt jerked with each new shot.

Bryce hit the dirt with an uneventful thud.

Casey switched his focus back to Liam, guns aimed, lazy, white smoke still wafting from the barrel. “Huh. Instincts were right that time. Something told me to go for the head shot.”

“What – what did you do!” Chuck’s dad sputtered.

“Well, it looks like I didn’t miss him that time.” Casey looked down at the ground, squinted, and then lifted a shoulder when he turned to the other two. “Anyone else in the mood to be the kid’s hero?”

x-End Chapter Sixteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Seventeen

-x-

The wisp of white smoke and gunpowder hung in the air, pungent and heavy with the scent of freshly-dead prick over ice. The finality gave Casey a rush of adrenaline, but that ended quickly with a shout from Adams.

“You – you shot him!” the man exclaimed.

“If it bothers you,” Casey said, aiming the gun at him, “you can think of it as Bryce getting his head in the way of my bullet.”

“Bravo, Johnnie, bravo.” When Casey slanted a look at Liam, his ex-boss smiled suddenly, an oddly engaging grin, displaying a row of white shark’s teeth. “Inevitable, wasn’t it? It seems the boy’s father didn’t understand that we’re playing for keeps.”

“Br-Bryce?” Chuck blinked at the spot where Bryce lay, doing a bang-up job of imitating a doorknob. “You ... really killed him ....”

If Casey was lucky, it wouldn’t have come down to unraveling exactly like this. Not that it wasn’t going to happen. Larkin? Hell, yes, it was gonna happen. From the beginning, since the first time Chuck admitted what the little snake had done to him, Bryce had earned a solid bullet that Casey was going to be happy to administer. Daydreamed about it. And finding out that the poacher was also self-serving liar only added to the caliber of Casey’s lesson.

Nothing cemented his sorry fate harder and faster, however, than when he pointed his gun at Chuck. Yeah, that sealed it. Today was the day Bryce Larkin would be shuffled off his mortal coil. Or maybe blasted off it with a little help from some dead aim and a borrowed gun.

He’d thank Rudy for that if he wasn’t shaking hands with Bryce right now.

Still, in the many ways Casey speculated he would hurt Bryce Larkin, smack dab in the middle of a sideways mess that looked to be spinning towards a gun battle wasn’t his choice. No, he realized. Not with Chuck standing ten feet away, a wide-eyed, terrified hostage/witness with a gun to his head.

When Casey unclenched his teeth and looked across the clearing to Liam, he saw his boyfriend was back to being used as a human shield. Convenient that the man Casey chose to be with was almost as tall as his ex-boss. And while the kid appeared to be frozen, assessing the no-longer twitching limbs of Larkin, Liam kept his smile pasted in place and only focused on Casey.

“Six bullets?” Liam observed dryly. “I’ll venture a guess and say you don’t consider that a waste of your precious ammunition. Something tells me you’ve been waiting for this day, Johnnie.”

“Chuck, look at me,” Casey said, putting his best effort into ignoring the heckling of the other man. “Only me. Not at Larkin.” Not at those aqua-blue eyes, open and blank, pointed at the sky like a washed-up fish.

“Wha-?” Chuck swung his head up and gaped at Casey. “What – what just h-happened?”

“Aw, let me take another guess.” Liam used the hold on Chuck’s waist to crush him against his shirt, his smile turning impish. “There’s more behind this than just a threat. Did he play with your boy here? Test him out a little? Maybe make you feel like it was your job to take up the vendetta ... and end it once and for all?”

“You heard Larkin as well as I did. It was just business.” Casey paused to squint down at what was Bryce Larkin, now dirtying up the grass with his blood. “He just didn’t know what kind of business until now.”

“But you just ... Casey ... you actually did this? You – shot him?!” Well, at least Chuck was talking, so Casey figured he was fighting off the shock, even though surprised horror wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

Maybe it was too soon for ‘thank you.’

“Chuck –”

“Oh my God.” Chuck’s eyes roved over him, down to the smoking gun in his hand. “This wasn’t supposed to ... oh, no.”

Casey watched as the kid stumbled back, gulping in air, his bare chest beginning to heave. Son of a bitch. Not one of those damn panic attacks. Not now.

“Chuck. Bartowski.” Casey’s voice sharpened, trying to draw his head up. “You are not going to do this. No matter what, kid. I need you to look at me and breathe.”

“I’m ... sorry. I can’t -”

“Oh, hell,” Adams muttered, witnessing something he apparently knew well from his son. “Not one of these womanish spells of yours.”

“Your son doesn’t need your insults,” Sabine said firmly. Standing at Casey’s shoulder, her hands were in the air after being forced to drop Miss Molly, something the woman would make these men regret, Casey reckoned. Even weaponless, she stepped closer and spit on ground. “You’re not a father, you’re a monster.”

“Stay out of this, woman,” Adams ground out. “You’ll be lucky to live through this.”

Casey fought back a heated rebuttal, choosing instead to watch his lover’s face, the tense jaw, the slight bow to his head as he was trapped in an invisible vice. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with Chuck right now, just as he had the last time he witnessed an attack. If only he could do things he wouldn’t normally do for any man: hold him through it, stroke his hair, murmur to him. It would help, wouldn’t it?

Too bad killing the kid’s father wouldn’t do the trick, because Casey was itching to take care of that nuisance next.

“Chuck, listen to me,” Casey said, edging in a step. “Slow ... brown eyes. It’s all right. Just like before, okay? You did it. Just breathe ....”

“Aw, brown eyes.” Liam fixed Chuck with a designing sort of look, smiling wolfishly. Then he laid a hand low on Chuck’s stomach, splayed it wide to pull him back. “Mmm, so sweet. Is that what he calls you, laddie? I’ll have to remember that for later.”

“Let go. I ... can’t... bre -” Chuck sucked in a gulp of oxygen and closed his eyes. Mortified, Casey guessed, on top of everything else. “God, don’t do this here ....”

“Liam, God damnit, let go of him,” Casey said fiercely, clenching his fists.

“Humph. Sounds like you’ve witnessed this show before?”

Casey wasn’t about to give away that secret, so he kept his eyes fixed on him and said nothing. The real question was how in the hell it had taken this long to work up to the panic attack.

Liam’s smile faded as he loosened his hold on Chuck just slightly. “Tsk. It’s a shame, Johnnie. You I mean, not him. You’re the weak one. All of those emotions ... hatred, vengeance ... and we can’t forget the most dangerous emotion of all now, can we? But your lover ... is he broken?”

Chuck dropped to one knee as if shoved. Head down, he blinked sluggishly, tried to pull in huge yet useless gulps. Perspiration slid along his skin. “Just ... stop,” he said softly. “We – we all know what everyone wants.”

Casey tightened his grip on the gun pointed at Liam, who conveniently had his own gun still aimed at Chuck’s head. It was a new form of torture, having to watch his boyfriend on the ground. But Casey knew the man would shoot Chuck if he tried to approach the kid, let alone kneel with him or get him to drag his attention up to Casey’s gaze, coax him to find a breath again.

The only way to get to Chuck, to be able to put a hand on the back of his neck, steady him, give back the rhythm of his heartbeat, was to end this battle now.

“I hope this isn’t a preview of what to expect tonight.” Liam waved a hand in dismissal at Chuck, the kid’s shoulders heaving, a peculiar wheezing sound breaking in his throat. “I was hoping for much more of a ... fight.”

A massive knot immediately tightened in Casey’s gut. Pushing aside his own failure, his inability to get any of it right, Casey straightened and forced himself to be calm through the pain of ignoring his partner for now. I’ve seen your strength, kid, Casey thought. You’re tough.

“Ready to put down your gun, Johnnie?” Liam asked.

“Like hell,” Casey replied into his smirking face. “I came here today to finish some business of my own, so do you think we can stop bitching like a bunch of biddies and get on with it? Pretty please?”

“Yes, you have a point, Mr. Casey.” The other men turned as Adams spoke up. Standing closest to Larkin’s body, he seemed to have gotten over the messy spectacle rather quickly if the cynical look on his face meant anything. “We came here to make a deal. Fuck Bryce Larkin and all of his foolishness. Let’s get on with it.”

Hearing his father speak so vulgarly made Chuck’s head snap up. His eyelids fluttered a little, but Casey was relieved to see there was a sharpened focus swirling in those brown depths. “A man died ... right here in front of you ....” the kid said between huffs. “Even if it was Bryce Larkin, how can you ...?”

“I agree with you, Johnnie,” Liam said, and with barely a glimpse at the kid, he hauled him up to his feet. “We’ll get on with it, despite your boy’s antics. Look at him. Humph. Swooning like every Victorian damsel in distress.” Despite the smart ass comment, Liam didn’t smile or look remotely amused. “Now we’re only three ... and the girl – the one behind you, not the one here,” and he gave Chuck a little shake, “who does you no good now.”

“Hey, I’m – I’m not –” Chuck said between breaths.

“Shut up. So where’s the money? If I trained you properly, it’s close by, isn’t it? You couldn’t risk letting it too far out of your sight. Just in case your little game went to hell?”

Casey decided to turn a deaf ear to the poke at his boyfriend. There was the matter of the money, and no question where he would find it. Remembering the conversation around the fire last night, he was certain Sabine could follow orders to the letter. And he knew it was lying at the base of a river oak. Two thousand steps away, following the creek to the south.

“It’s close,” he finally said, suppressing his relief that Chuck was able to stand, even though he was bathed in sweat and panting.

“Good. Then give him the damn money first,” Adams called over, “so that I can get what I came for.”

“That’s not what happens first,” Liam corrected, calm as he shifted his grip on the kid’s arm. “Now that I’ve let you have your fun, drop the guns, Johnnie. Both of them. I hate to keep reminding you that I have a gun pointed here.” To accentuate his argument, he pressed the barrel to the kid’s temple. A smile creased his face and he said in a thick voice, “Do it now, Johnnie, or I end his pathetic excuse of a life.”

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut. “Ow, ow, ow. How long do we have to -”

“You won’t kill him,” Casey interrupted, though he knew putting it out in the open was a hell of a risk. Liam was just crazy enough to see it as a challenge. Not that Casey expected him to burn up his one ace in the hole right now. “It’s a bluff.”

The other man’s brows drew up underneath the black bowler hat cocked on his head. “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

“No. You have other plans,” Casey said, ignoring his heart nearly thudding through his shirt. Sauntering in a few steps, he lowered his voice only for Liam to hear, “I already know what they are. Hell, you told me. Then you told the kid, and flaunted it good and hard in front of him for the past few days, I suspect.”

It was unavoidable. Chuck had to hear every last word, and there was no hiding what despicable act he was referring to. “Oh, no. You’ll – have to throw me in that creek first, if you think I’m going to do ... anything with you.”

“Shut up, Bartowski.” Casey didn’t want to see the reaction, but he had to flick a look just in time to see Chuck wince. “Stay out of this.”

Chuck responded by shooting Casey a sour look. “I guess you’re g-giving the orders for now, John.”

Okay, he’s pulling himself out of it, but Christ. Casey wondered how he would appease his boyfriend after ‘borrowing’ the Cipher and involving his father. At the thought of such appeasements, the floodgate opened to fill his head with a few lewd options before he decided it was clearly not the time to go there. Instead, he shook it off and leveled his blue eyes at his ex-boss. “So you’re not going to kill him until you can accomplish you goal. Torturing both of us.” Sorry, here comes the bluntness, kid. “You want to make it good and rough for him, don’t you? Force me to watch him ... getting raped by you. But ... how are you going to do that with a corpse?”

If he could hate himself more, he did it for adding that last word.

Liam slid one hand over the kid’s abdomen, low. He shrugged at Chuck’s sharp intake of breath. “You’re right.”

There was no relief at being right about that. Watching them intently, Casey felt sweat trickle down his chest under his shirt, suddenly reminding him that when Liam had that simmering belligerent expression aimed at a man, no one else was right for long.

“This is how it’s going to be, Johnnie,” Liam said quietly, considered him only for a second before he reached around Chuck. “Let me show you what I mean.”

When the kid’s eyes startled and went wide, Casey realized for some reason Liam was untying Chuck’s hands. What the hell?

“Hey, ouch.” Chuck wriggled and tried to pull away. “What – what are you doing?”

Liam sighed impatiently. “You’ll see, boy.” As soon as a hand was free, he grabbed one and yanked it out in front of their bodies, palm flat. Then Liam shoved the barrel up against it. “Want to hear a story, Johnnie?”

“Damn you ....” Casey muttered, his eyes darting down and back up again. “Let him go.”

“When we were at that quaint little farm back in Colorado,” his ex-boss continued in a taunting voice, “I couldn’t help but admire your lover’s little project. Up in the loft?”

“Oh, no....” Chuck breathed. “Not that.”

“A great wooden, winged bird,” Liam explained, staring straight at Casey, “like a hawk on the brink of flight – all from that great mind of his.” The barrel pressed in, certain to leave a welt in the middle of the kid’s palm, and pausing for effect, he finally said, “All with these hands.”

After a brief glimpse to the gun, alarm surged up in him when it became clear what Liam intended to do. Casey’s finger twitched on the trigger and he glanced over at Adams, who had Casey in his sight. One more twitch, and he’d be a dead man.

“Ah, wonderful. I see you understand.” Liam yanked harder, lifting one of the kid’s hands up with bruising fingers, almost thrusting it in Casey’s face.

“Ow – stop!” Chuck blurted.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” Liam asked in a deep rumble, his body pressed against Chuck’s. “Your boy likes to use his hands, I bet. How else could he draw his far-fetched designs, or build his little devices, try to bring them to life? Hmm? He seems to be mechanically minded.” Liam’s smile twisted. “Dreams with his hands, too, I bet.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Casey growled.

Chuck, still bewildered by the attack, tried to back up, but Liam only increased the pressure. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh, and I wager you like what he does with them when he’s not feeding his lunacy.” Liam snorted softly. “Does he touch you with these? Did you teach him what you like? How you want him to touch you? It’s nice, isn’t it, Johnnie?”

“Liam –” Casey warned as the other man pulled back on the hammer. “I will kill you.”

“Really. And let the kid’s dad be the one to kill you?”

“Oh God.” Chuck shut his eyes. His free hand now moved to Liam’s shoulder, pushing away. “Please don’t please don’t -”

“What would he do without these beautiful hands? You have to ask yourself if life is still worth living if you can’t build your dreams. Or well, some bullshit like that, eh?” The brief glint of humor in Liam’s eyes died out. “I think we understand each other now. Your guns, Johnnie. Drop them. Then I want all of the money. You have five seconds to decide.”

Chuck was watching his face closely. “Casey – please! Don’t give it to him –”

“Johnnie,” Sabine said, forcing Casey to slant a look at her, his eyes still hard, brittle. “Do what he says.”

Casey lifted his chin. The only sound was Chuck’s breath, coming in short gasps.

“Oh, for Christ’s sakes, Johnnie,” Liam said. “You never could admit when you were beat. But you know you have to do it. Throw them down.”

Casey saw Liam draw his finger in on the trigger, making the kid flinch. Some instinct slapped him. Stone-cold killer or not, he couldn’t let the vicious devil just shoot the kid in the hand. Take away the chance to live his dreams. Even if Casey wasn’t in them any longer.

One final, acid look and Casey dropped the gun. Chuck watched it fall, watched it tumble the couple of feet between his hand and the ground.

“A good decision on your part, Johnnie,” Liam assured him, picking up the gun. He then grabbed Chuck’s wrists and twisted both of them in front of his body. Before the kid could react, Liam had retied the rope around them, keeping his hands in front this time. “Lead the way.”

Casey couldn’t stop from dragging his eyes away from Chuck for a moment to scowl over at Adams. “How the fuck can you call yourself a father? You didn’t even flinch, even when a man just threatened to take your son’s hands.”

“I don’t need his hands.” Adams nodded. “Let’s go.”

Liam gave Chuck a little shove. “The woman stays here.”

“Why?” Sabine spat out, her eyes darting between them.

“Because you’re a woman,” Adams informed her.

“Because this is between Casey and me. I don’t need any ally of his in the mix.” Liam turned to Adams and motioned with his head to the bag in the dad’s hand. “Get the strap off the satchel. Give it to Johnnie. He’s going to tie the woman to a tree.” An assessing gaze traveled over her. “Perhaps we can use her later.”

Sabine lifted her face and gave him a death glare that would made Casey proud. “Just do it, Johnnie. We’ll use him later. For target practice. Not that I need it, but Moron does.”

“Morgan,” Chuck said, frowning when he only got an eye roll from Casey.

“On second thought, give him your handkerchief, too,” Liam suggested, tugging on the rope line that held Chuck, enough to make him lurch. “I want Johnnie to gag her as well. No one likes a woman who speaks her mind.”

“Sorry, Sabine,” Casey mumbled. Still, he obeyed his ex-boss by fetching the leather band and hankie Adams proffered and tied her up without too much of a fuss. Any sane woman would’ve kicked at least, but she intuitively knew what he had to do.

When he cinched off the knot and stuffed the handkerchief in her mouth, Casey turned to see Liam watching him, smugly pleased with his apparent surrender. “Very good. Now there’s the matter of my money,” he said, giving Chuck another shove. “Let’s go.”

-x-

Four hundred. Three-eighty.

Wanna lose track, dumbass? Stop thinking about the kid.

As much as he was dreading the countdown of the steps along the river, there was a tiny modicum of relief. It was the sound of Chuck’s breathing behind his back. He had every reason to be curled up in a fetal position, or hell, even letting go some of those tears he refused to shed in front of Casey. But somehow, his inhalations were steadier than they had been after Bryce got in the way of a bullet or six.

The first time Casey had a front row seat to one of those episodes was back in Kiowa, followed by another show when they escaped from Black Rock. The worse was the one time a spasm did end with tears. Genuine, hard fought ones, too, not the pansy kind.

No matter what, Casey vowed that if he ever got the kid out of this situation – fuck, he meant when – he’d do his damndest to never have to cause one again.

“Keep up, puppy,” Liam said, the sound of his boots approaching Casey from behind. “You won’t have to worry about your lover betraying you to your father much longer, will you? Making a trade that you obviously don’t want to see happen? I wonder what’s so valuable to your old man. Well, why don’t you get those legs moving, and we’ll find out.”

“Go to hell,” he heard the kid tell him. “And I’m not your puppy.”

That’s the part of his accusation you want to argue? Not the infinitesimal matter of your boyfriend’s alleged betrayal to your dear old dad?

And you’re my puppy.

Jesus, Casey was going to have some sucking up to do after this was over. Though Chuck usually had a forgiving temperament, something told him the kid could make a man grovel pretty damn well if he put his mind to it.

Fuck, okay. Three hundred.

As they followed the path along the river, a narrow trail of crumpled grass and hoof prints in the mud, Casey had to wonder if any traveler would be unlucky enough to stumble across such a strange procession. How often did someone see a man with his hands in the air, followed by a bastard the size of a Kodiak towing a skinny, half-naked kid on a rope, rounded out by a nattily dressed city slicker? Something like that might cause a stir, and Liam would be certain to end any skirmish quickly with a bullet.

Two hundred and fifty steps. There would be a wide river oak, a red bandana tied to the bottommost branch just over the edge of the water.

Casey trod through the low brush, pulling back on the branches of an oak sapling that nearly whipped him in the face. He heard Chuck fall and climb back to his feet, and Casey pictured that same bit of rope wrapped around the giant ass’s neck if he kept pulling like that.

To be fair, Chuck was still keeping up without too much griping, though the cursing under his breath when he tripped seemed to be aimed at all three of his traveling companions. After another stumble, Casey heard something uncomplimentary directed at a stubborn dickhead, and he didn’t bother to ask which one.

“How much further?” Adams barked from behind, pausing to swat at the cloud of gnats. “What the hell are we doing here? Damn this place.”

“Just up ahead.” Casey motioned at a bend where the river seemed to narrow. Even in the midst of the forest, the heat mingling with the wet, muckiness of the air was beginning to take hold. He could hear the older man toiling to keep up. It hadn’t occurred to Adams to toss off his neat button-down coat or vest, and Casey was on the brink of suggesting where the old man could stuff his citified finery.

“This is taking too long!” Adams complained again. “How do we know this isn’t a goose chase?”

“I guess you have to take that chance.”

One twenty-five, twenty. He had faith. Sabine would come through.

Why couldn’t he see it yet?

Casey kicked a log off the path and scanned the trees up ahead. The bandana could’ve fallen on the ground, or –

There, next to the bending river oak. That had to be it.

“Stay here. I’ll collect the packages on my own.” Casey turned around to find Liam with his gun still pointed at Chuck’s head. “We’re here now, so why don’t you aim that at the person you really want to kill?”

“Tempting, but I think this kind of motivation works best,” Liam said, then made a show of grinding the muzzle into Chuck’s temple. “Don’t you agree?”

Chuck recoiled against his unwanted escort and landed an elbow. “Watch it, will you?”

“Here’s your reminder, John,” Liam told him, taking Chuck by the ear like an unruly child. “Any tricks come out of that bag, and I shoot.”

“I’m getting tired of your song,” Casey said gruffly.

“Um – I am too!” Chuck sputtered, not daring to yank his head for fear of losing that ear. “Casey, don’t you dare give that to my dad .... you can’t. I’m ... ordering you – as your boyfriend!”

Casey did have to turn and squint at that.

“Does he ever shut up?”

“No,” Adams and Casey answered together before turning to scowl at each other.

“Then go get it before I twist his ear off.”

“Ouch! You giant jerk!” Chuck kicked him on the boot, with exactly as much effect as kicking a brick wall.

“Chuck, save your damn energy!”

“Fine advice, Johnnie,” Liam said in a chuckle. “He’s going to need it, isn’t he?”

The filthy reminder forced Casey’s attention to drift over Chuck’s dirt-streaked face, his mouth, the bruises along his jaw. A man like Casey wasn’t supposed to get all hung up on emotions, but the moment this was over, he’d feel the relief of punching his fist through something. Maybe starting with the kid’s dad, he thought, looking over at his stiff, eager posture and the gun still in his hand. Hell, he had barely acknowledged his own son after learning the Cipher was near.

“There’s the spot.” Casey stilled his thoughts with an abrupt gesture and jerked his head towards the slope of the bank. “None of your bullshit tricks.”

Liam smiled while Chuck tried to add to his rope burns by twisting his wrists. “Same goes.”

It was about a dozen paces to the base of the tree where Casey knew he would find a canvas bag. The bank sloped sharply down until it broke into a jumble of large rocks, forcing Casey to take his eyes off of them, but he had had no other choice. The last thing he would do was back up slowly while facing Liam like a groveling cup-bearer to a gallant King.

“I want to see it,” Adams demanded.

Chuck continued to squirm. “Casey, don’t you dare!”

Sighing to himself, Casey stepped down the bank, knocking back the overgrown silverberry, the flowers brown and dry, and nudging away branches with his boot. With no difficultly, he spotted the tan canvas bag, tucked among a tangle of wet roots. If there was a God, he’d fall to his knees and cross himself.

How lucky was he to find such a damn fine woman as partner? Professional partner. Not to be confused with the more intimate partner, currently cursing him under his breath and showing some of that spunk, if the sounds of the tussle were any clue.

“You’re wasting my time, Johnnie-boy,” Liam said tersely. Casey bit back the reply that the only reason they were in the mosquito-infested forest sweating through their shirts was that Liam wouldn’t let the kid get in one good kick to his nut sack. “Take it easy, lover-boy,” he went on to murmur to the kid. “You’ll get everything you need soon. Very soon.”

When your dead carcass is under my boot, I’ll make sure he does, but thanks for the offer. Casey glanced up to see his ex-boss had given up on holding the gun to Chuck’s head, and now had the scuffling kid in a headlock. With his face pointed to the ground, a head of brown curls was all Casey could see, which was perhaps a good thing. Half of those curses were meant for him.

“How about going easy on the kid,” Casey said. “Didn’t you just say you’ll get your chance soon enough?” Yeah, in hell you will.

“Your boy still has some life left in him,” Liam replied, grinning when Chuck swung up with his tied hands, trying to break loose. “You have no idea how much that pleases me, Johnnie.”

“Ouch, ouch ....” Chuck muttered a few more curses before he yelled stubbornly, “Please this, you asshole!”

“Chuck, you’re only going to get hurt.” As the kid struggled, Casey could envision his face turning bright red. Surprisingly, the next kick with his knee ended up being a decent shot to Liam’s thigh. Of course, Liam outweighed the kid by a good forty pounds of muscle, so it barely made him sway. “Casey – Casey. I know you remember ... the things I told you – about it - ow!”

“Johnnie, in case you were wondering, this isn’t going to get easier on him.” Liam proved it by tightening his arms and forcing Chuck to fold in half, his face shoved close to the ground.

Knowing there was only one way to end Liam’s game, Casey tossed him a look that should’ve singed his boots to the dirt, and pushed back the branches that partially covered the satchel. “I have it,” Casey said, grabbing the handle. “Now back the hell up and drop the kid.”

“You’re honestly under the impression it will be that simple? How droll.” Liam chuckled and hauled Chuck around in front of him. “Get up here where I can see you.”

“And my package,” Adams snapped. “Where is it?”

Casey shrugged, a bored look crossing his face. “Maybe I traded it for a bottle of whiskey and a roll with a skinny slommack.”

“Damn Liar.” Adams’ hand convulsed on the gun. “You wouldn’t!”

As Casey’s words sunk in, Chuck stopped wrestling and attempted to look up at him. “What – what did he just say?! Traded for a what now?”

“God, not now, kid,” Casey mumbled, and flinging the bag over his shoulder, he climbed back up the grassy bank to the small clearing where Liam and Adams waited. Maybe Chuck was too wiped out to understand sarcasm, because in the meantime, he waffled between either continuing his useless fight or telling Casey what a giant, ignorant caveman he was for both the C-word and for being an abysmal, bottom-feeding boyfriend.

Casey couldn’t argue with any of that at the moment, so he kept his mouth shut and let the kid swing away.

“It looks like you found something that belongs to me,” Liam said, eyeing the bag.

“I think it belonged to a hell of a lot of somebodies before you stole it,” Casey replied. Seeing that the situation was about to get dicey – well, more than the usual screwed-up untidiness that seemed to follow them - he strolled in slowly, hat low over his eyes. It let him cast a quick perusal of the area where apparently this stand-off would finally come to an end.

Great, he thought. The widest, fastest section of the river was right here, water plunging with nature’s force over rocks and logs. Long ago, an intrepid traveler or an army of them managed to pick up a tree trunk and lay it over the east and west banks. It didn’t look a damn bit sturdy anymore, and exactly what he didn’t need. He’d have to carry the kid across it if he had to, and at the moment, Casey wasn’t sure Chuck wouldn’t send them both tumbling in with the way he seemed intent to put his boyfriend in his place.

Worse, he didn’t need an escape route for either of the men he planned to unburden himself of today.

“Careful, Johnnie ....” Liam said, noticing Casey’s careful assessment of the surroundings. “I’d take great care in opening that bag if I were you.”

“I’d take great care in getting your hands off his neck.”

“Casey – if you have it –” Chuck shouted, “don’t you even think of giving it to him.”

“Listen to the little Nancy,” Adams retorted, keeping his distance near a clump of red maples about twenty feet away. “This was always his problem. Never willing to encompass the gift he had.” He shook his head and spit on the ground. “God, what a waste.”

“Get over here,” Casey ordered him without taking his eyes from Liam. “All that talk won’t get you what you came for.” You worthless piece of shit. “You better have the other half of the payment in your bag.”

“Don’t trouble yourself with my business, Mr. Casey.” Adams drew in another step, clutching the bag to his body while the other held the gun steadily pointed at Casey’s head. “I didn’t become a rich man by always keeping to my end of the bargain, but if you produce ... the key, Mr. O’ Doherty will be a very rich man.” His eyes shifted to his son. “And you’ll be stuck with a failure who had so much more potential. Such a pity.”

The real pity, Casey decided, was not being able to shoot the man where he stood. He still had to speculate if there was any way to hand wave any discussion with his boyfriend that began ‘Well, button, I had to kill your father. Asshole, anyway. We’re good, eh? Now, wanna take those jeans off for me, or do I need to do it?’

Christ. Maybe his delivery needed work. It didn’t stop him from enjoying the vision for a moment, however.

“Open it up and show me what’s inside before I teach your boy another little lesson in manners.” Becoming annoyed with Chuck’s struggle, Liam wrapped his arms under the kid’s and over the back of his neck in a very effective restraint. “Oh, and Johnnie? I better see my money.”

“You know what I need to see,” Adams added curtly. His boots cracked as he shuffled to Casey’s left, helping to form a deadly triangle with Liam and Chuck at the apex. “The Cipher.”

Casey shifted a wary eye at him. It was the first time Adams had referenced that thing so specifically and openly. Two reactions were immediate. Chuck lifted his back like a bucking colt, trying to throw off Liam’s hold, while the larger man simply arched a brow, first at Adams and then to Casey. “The Cipher?” Liam repeated, obviously curious now. “What exactly is it?”

“None of your damn business,” Adams told him and rounded on Casey. “Now hand it over, and your boss gets to double his take.” He gave a little shake to the bag over his shoulder. “Perhaps enough payment for my son.”

“Dammit!” Chuck blurted, thrashing against the impossible hold. “Will anybody listen to me?!”

Liam merely tightened his grip on the back of his neck, pressing his face down hard towards the ground. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be to crack his little chicken neck,” he suggested with a smile before his face turned cold. “I want to see my money in that bag first, Johnnie-boy.

Grimly, Casey reached for the tie and opened one corner of the bag. “There. Happy now? Eight hundred ... thousand. All cash.

“Good. Maybe you’ve finally followed instructions.” Liam’s eyes centered on the greenbacks, then ran up his body with a greedy look gripping his features, causing prickles of sweat to form at Casey’s collar. “Set the bag down on the ground, keep your hands up, and back away.” Halting briefly, his ex-boss motioned to the side. “Over there by the river bank.”

“Don’t you dare set it down until you get my package out of there,” Adams announced flatly. The canopy of the forest let only slivers of sunlight through the leaves, and from where he stood, strands of light sliced over his face like knife cuts. When the man glanced between Casey and Liam, it became obvious. Why yes, daddy had noticed the way Liam’s eyes gleamed at the mention of something that precious. “It’s mine.”

“Casey, Casey – John.” Chuck’s voice sounded strangled, but he managed to lift his head. His brown eyes were wide, pleading, and had the same effect as a thin dagger to Casey’s heart. “Please don’t!”

Hopefully, he’d forgive him someday. “It has to happen, kid,” Casey told him, and he reached into the bag, rummaging around a little –

Adams froze, waiting.

Casey didn’t.

He whirled the bag in front of his body, a gun suddenly in hand. A flick of his other wrist and a second gun sprouted from his other hand a millisecond later. Chuck didn’t get a chance to stare, for Liam hauled him backwards, pulling him across the fallen log that served as a bridge over the rushing water about twelve feet below.

Casey braced himself for a splash, but the kid did all right by balancing on the wobbly log without catching his foot on the rotting bark. “Hey – let go!” he heard Chuck shout.

“How quaint, Johnnie-boy,” Liam said between clenched teeth, ignoring the kid while dragging him backwards along the log, the timber creaking and shifting under their combined weight. “You had a package for yourself as well, it seems.”

“Seemed prudent,” Casey said. He leveled off his arms, one gun pointed at Liam, the other at Adams. And damn, it felt good. Footsteps pounded to the left of him, and Casey got a brief flash of the kid’s dad stupidly running forward before stopping when he saw the barrel pointed straight at him. When the footsteps receded, Casey shrugged and pinned his eyes to Liam. “Figured if we ever got the point where I needed to reach for the money, I sure as hell would need a gun.”

“Amusing, Johnnie, that you want to end it this way,” Liam said. His eyes wandered over Chuck, and then down, down to the river. “Little fishy ... can you swim ...?” his ex-boss hummed. “Such a long way down ....”

A cold spear of revulsion thrust through Casey’s chest. Would the big pecker really do it?

“Mr. Casey, I refuse to play your game any longer,” he heard Adams grit out. “You will reach into that bag,” - he paused, pivoting in his boots, and Casey saw his aim stop. Directly at Chuck’s head. “Or I will end the misery that is my son’s life.”

“You would kill your own son,” Casey said. His voice, already low, had dropped an octave, becoming deathly. “That’s the last time you’re going to threaten him.”

“Casey, please don’t,” Chuck stammered.

“Oh, isn’t this sweet?” The sick thrill of wanting the kid to watch the stand-off between his father and his lover was too much temptation, and Liam allowed Chuck’s head to spring up. One arm remained snaked around his middle, holding him against his chest, while the other still held the pistol. “What else do you have to say to your big, bad, boyfriend?”

“This thing in my head wants to ruin my life, Casey. I can’t let it anymore.”

“You’re surprised I would do it?” Adams, proving he was even more of a serpent by ignoring his son, simply narrowed his eyes at Casey. “He’s worthless. Look at him. He loves ... men. Or, more specifically, one man – one I would hardly put above the dirt on my shoes. All I wanted was a strong son -”

“You have it, you motherfucker,” Casey interrupted. “Strongest man I ever met.”

Adams snorted. “Please, Mr. Casey. Just look at him.” When he rolled his eyes and gestured at his son, the move made Casey turn to take note of the new bruises that were rising along the kid’s neck. It took all his willpower not to twitch his trigger finger. “All I wanted was the great things he was destined for, if he only would’ve taken them. He’s one in a million, my son.” His voice dripped venom. “Generations waited, the Keepers waited ... did he tell you that, too? And what did we end up with after all that time?” As he turned to Chuck, his lips curled in a snarl. “Disappointment. Inadequacy. And, finally, resistance.”

“Dumbass,” Casey muttered, his face a hard mask as he squinted down the barrel. “The more you talk, the more I understand how smart he was to leave. Can’t believe you shoved this bullshit at him his whole life.”

“Casey!” Watching Chuck squirm, Casey had to wonder where the kid was getting any last reserves of energy. “He – he can’t say anything to hurt me anymore, okay? You were right – I’ve heard it my entire life. Just – listen to me! Don’t – ow!”

Liam had shut him up with another jab to the back of his head with the muzzle. “I want to hear this, boy ....”

“Bullshit?” Adams spit out. “He could’ve done great things. He was chosen – the Cipher’s Keeper. He threw it away. For what? By any indication, my son is on the brink of being thrown away just as easily. The good news is, I suppose, that will save him from being what you came for. Your fuck toy?”

It took Casey a couple of seconds for the true loathing of the words to hit him. He inclined his head with a look of disgust at the man who had donated sperm to conceive the kid. Couldn’t even think the word father. “I’ve changed my mind about you,” Casey said evenly. “All along I thought I wouldn’t be able to look the kid in the eye if I killed his own father. But you know what? I was wrong. I don’t have time for your ranting. Say your teary goodbye, dickweed.”

The hammer cocked. His trigger finger curled and tightened –

“John, please,” Chuck said, his voice raspy. “He’s doing it to you. Manipulating you. Daring you ... because he knows Liam will shoot you first.”

Before Casey could reply, another metal clack of a hammer made him turn to look at his ex-boss. The pistol pointed at him honestly caught him by surprise. When had Liam turned the gun from Chuck’s head? But looking down the barrel wasn’t what froze him, not completely anyway. It had much more to do with a pair of bottomless brown eyes, begging him not to get sucked in.

“Casey, look at me,” Chuck demanded. Frustrated by his helplessness, his wriggling picked up steam, and he almost earned a dip in the river when his foot slipped on the log. “You have to listen!”

Casey shook his head but slowly forced the anger to recede, inch by slippery inch until his trigger finger stopped convulsing. “Bartowski. Stay put.”

“It can’t happen!”

“Shut up and stay there. I can handle this!”

“Give it to me,” Adams interjected.

Chuck glared at him, lips pressed tight in irritation. “Casey, for months, you asked me one thing. Know what it is? You asked me to trust you. Okay, I admit, I – I didn’t always do it, but sometimes you made it so damn hard!”

“Oh?” Liam, still with a thick arm tightly wrapped around the kid’s chest, joggled him and smirked. “I bet he did, puppy.”

Either it was exertion, exhaustion, or a blush that lit the kid’s face. Maybe all three. He shook his head, making the dark curls ruffle in the breeze in way that made Casey want to take hold of him. Hatred should’ve been pouring off of the kid, like any other man who had to suffer through his own father’s pronouncement. But instead, his bare torso gave Casey a view of all those lean muscles unwinding, an eerie calmness settling over him.

“You want to shoot him for what he just said. Now you know why I ran.” Chuck took a deep breath, regarding Casey steadily. “But the second you pull that trigger, you better be ready for the fact it’s not going to be enough to stop your boss. Liam just heard that my father will kill his own son to possess the key. So now Liam will shoot you, Casey. Then he’ll shoot my ... father, and take the Cipher for himself.”

“Good going, Bartowski –” Casey warned under breath. “You really think that prick over there holding you needs any ideas?”

“And even if we get out of this,” Chuck said, halting to swallow, “years from now, John, you’ll hate yourself for not doing what I’m asking you to do.”

“And what the hell is that?”

“Ask yourself. Have you ever trusted someone more than me?”

“No,” Casey said automatically, his arm sinking an inch or two, feeling the truth in every bone and muscle.

Chuck’s eyes softened. “Then this time, you have to trust me, Casey.”

Oh, hell, he played that card. Casey wanted Chuck to tell him it was okay. That he had his willing acceptance to pull the trigger and end the most wasteful container of human matter Casey had ever laid eyes on. (And considering his prior associates’ pedigrees, that was saying hell of a lot.)

But Chuck wasn’t obliging. And if Casey couldn’t ride out all of today’s shit and wrath by just pulling the trigger and losing Chuck’s trust, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive it.

Did he trust the kid? With his life?

Casey took a step back, had to look away from Chuck, so he turned his gaze to watch the water swirl under the bridge. “Okay, then,” he spoke after a moment, as if that was the only answer he could give. Reaching into the bag, he rummaged around until his fingers coasted over the cool, worn leather of a book binding. Without wasting another moment, he lifted it out of the sack and held it up, watching Adams’ eyes go from hatred to pure greed in two seconds flat. “This what you want?”

“Yes!” Adams blinked in awe and disbelief, looking voraciously at the heavy tome. “Give it to me!”

Casey studied the man’s face only for a second before he turned to gather his boyfriend’s reaction. God, those intuitive, too-bright eyes. Chuck’s expression sunk him, the dark gaze searching over his face. “No,” the kid murmured. “Trust what you love ....”

The kid could’ve planned it that way. Saying it now, like this.

The response was immediate. Something nearby growled. An actual noise of complete fury yet supplication.

Hell. That came from him.

“See if you can fetch.” Casey smiled at the kid’s father in a mock apology.

“What do you mean?” Adams demanded.

And just like that, Casey launched the Cipher from the river’s bank, arcing the tome through the air, intending to get it past a downed log and straight to the current, vengeance burning hot. “Without drowning.”

Funny thing about that book. With all the power it was supposed to have, it made a hell of a splash. Maybe the weight wasn’t too much to be carried by the rushing water, or maybe it would sink to the bottom. Either way, paper and water usually didn’t mix well, a fact that pleased Casey to no end.

Adams stared and stumbled forward, holding his chest. “You – you utter bastard!”

“CaseyCaseyCasey!” Chuck shouted, already babbling in relief. When Casey rounded back to face him, he saw himself caught in the light of one of those crooked, albeit shocked, grins. “I love you!”

“Keep it in your pants, Bartowski!” For now. God knows he was going to get enough exercise with it later.

The momentary distraction of picturing the kid, hair bed-ruffled and sweaty bodies tangled in fucked-out bliss, almost cost him the price of ever being able to enjoy that particular kind of workout ever again.

“Casey, look out!” Chuck called to him. His head snapped towards his father. “Get down!”

Adams let out some kind of high-pitched, beastly yell, and his arm holding the gun whirled back up in the vicinity of Casey’s head one more time.

Well, Casey wasn’t standing around to find out what the yell meant. In an instant, he got off one shot, but the dickhead dove behind a tree. Not a bad idea, Casey gathered, now that a mere twenty feet away, Liam lifted his arm ready to take a shot at each of them. Casey pelted off the path toward a wide tree trunk, snatching the bag on the way -

A bullet zinged by his head. Very loud and too close. It tore into the bark less than three inches to the left of Casey’s temple, sending up individual eruptions and kicking splinters into the air. Casey checked his cartridge and edged his chin forward to get a better look at the bridge. Where the hell was Chuck now?

The angle of the tree’s shadows made it a little difficult to see, but he got the vague impression of Liam’s giant form, hauling Chuck further out onto the log as it wobbled and swayed.

“Those weren’t warning shots!” Adams’ voice called over from the wide oak. “Next one is going straight into your skull, John Casey!”

“Get yourself into a little trouble, Johnnie-boy?” Liam laughed. More bullets flew into the tree trunk, now coming from his ex-boss’s pistol. “Sorry about the odds. Maybe you should throw down your gun and come out. I know it’s not in your make-up, Johnnie, but your boy will be good as dead. You need to give up now.”

Like the pansy-ass French? Yeah, right. Maybe the frogs were quick to knuckle under, but a man nine parts gunpowder and one part bull piss didn’t get out of his fair share of predicaments by waving the white flag.

“Casey, look out! My fath – mmph!”

That was either Chuck sliding off the log into the water, or Liam slapping a huge paw over the kid’s mouth. Since bullets continued to ricochet off the tree trunk, cracking like fire from the direction of the bridge, Casey had to believe the two men hadn’t gone in.

Pray, actually, because son of a bitch. Chuck’s wrists were still tied, and despite the amount of stubbornness he had mustered up, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could fight the swiftly moving current without being able to use his hands.

Casey inched around the tree to get a better look, not fully rising to his feet. “Chuck? Say something.”

“Come out, come out wherever you are, Johnnie-boy,” Liam called, sing-song, taunting. “I have something for you ....”

“Mmpgh – noph!”

Chuck’s voice again, intermixed with the sound of a new scuffle. Okay, he was still on the bridge. But a second later, hearing a boot scrabble for purchase, Casey could feel every pound of his heart against his throat. “Bartowski, stop fighting him!” Casey hissed, keeping his head out of sight. “You’ll end up in the water!”

“Nervous, Johnnie-boy?” Liam jeered. Another bullet lodged itself deep within the bark. “Can your little puppy paddle?”

Casey stayed crouched in the dirt, eyeing the grassy bank up to the point where the tree trunk blocked his view. The position was furiously frustrating yet safe at the same time. He couldn’t see the kid at all. On the other hand, it also blocked Liam’s shots from blowing his head into tiny bits, so there was that much at least.

How could he dare take a shot at Liam? Not with the kid in his arms, dangling over the river.

By now, Casey’s gut instincts were jumping like mice trapped in a burning house. The plan was a tidy one, and that’s what should’ve happened. Daddy was supposed to get his Cipher – without the kid’s interference. Liam was supposed to get a nice bullet between the eyes for his payment. After that, he and the kid had a clean path to freedom. They’d go find a hideaway and put all this shit behind them. Go to bed while it’s still light out, the lazy chirp of crickets lulling them while they used their hands and bodies to remember each other’s skin. Exhaust themselves in the dark, and in the morning, he’d wrap an arm around the kid’s waist, his hips, drawing him backward into him as he slowly woke him with a gentle rocking, thrusting into him with a good morning fuck, starting over after breakfast -

“Jesus,” Casey whispered and shook his head. Wanna keep your dick in your pants until you have the kid safe? Shit! Scooting over a foot or so he scanned the bank. Somehow, he had to get down there under cover of the brush where he could see Chuck without getting a bullet between his own eyes.

With that thought, Casey began to rise and edge out from the trunk, ready to make a break for the bank.

He was stopped dead in his tracks by a noise. Odd, but it sounded a lot like a metallic click within a few inches of his right ear.

“Don’t move,” a cold voice said.

Immediately, Casey felt his insides freeze. And yep, that was a muzzle pressed to his temple. Maybe that’s what Chuck was trying to tell him. To warn him that dear old dad was about to get the drop on him.

The one time Casey needed him to babble.

“The only thing better than killing you,” Adams ground out from above and behind him, “is being able to do it while my son is watching. Drop the gun.”

Reflexes had Casey begin to turn his head, but the barrel sunk into his flesh. This was the way it was going to end, right now at the mercy of a man who had none, unless Casey could reach his gun. At the worst time, every drop of moisture rolling over his skin reminded him of the touch of Chuck’s hand, the slide of his body over his. Full circle, back to longing and yearning, with too many quickly vanishing opportunities running like the water over the rocks.

“I said drop it,” Adams repeated. “Out in the open, you worthless sack of shit. Where my son can watch what happens to men who cross me.”

Casey drew in a breath, tilted his head, and shifted his eyes down the length of his own arm, finally landing on his gun aimed out in front of him. If he even dared to swing around, there was no doubt Adams would pull the trigger, smiling while he did it. After that, well, he was just crazy enough to kill his own son.

“Did you hear me, pussy?” Adams said, shoving the barrel a bit harder. “I said drop it, or so help me God, I will rid the earth of you right here in the dirt – ow. Fuck!”

Fuck what? The cold press against his temple was gone. Without stopping to ask, Casey jumped and swung his aim around assuming his customary shooting stance, though his chiseled jaw almost dropped open at the sight behind him.

What the hell?

Adams, bent at the knees, had one fist wrapped around the other. It took only a second for Casey to see his gun on the ground, and another heartbeat to swoop it up. Blood was leaking from the man’s hand, oozing between his fingers. “Goddamn it,” he said, squeezing to staunch the bleeding. “What was that?!”

“Drop something, scumbag?” Casey asked, and a cynical grin pulled one side of his mouth up. He had no idea how he was now holding Adams’ gun. He only knew he had to be the luckiest man in Carteret County today. Glancing down at the weapon that nearly took his head off, Casey then grunted at the stunned man. “Bet you wish you pulled the trigger without the fucking sermon in my ear.”

“How – ah! It broke my hand! Son of a bitch.” Adams winced and nearly stumbled, his gaze searching the woods. “Where did that come from?”

Casey narrowed his eyes at Adams before curiosity had him skimming the wooded area as well. He wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to that either. “Get your hands up,” he ordered. Rising to his full height, a movement caught his eye. A small rock, still rolling away from the base of the tree.

“It came out of nowhere!” Adams hunched his shoulders, looking around as if preparing for another ping. “Someone threw it – or – a slingshot! Damnit! My hand!”

A slingshot? There was only one person Casey knew who carried one. Casting a startled eye around the clearing, he had to bite back a smile. At least it answered the question of whether the doctor and the Moron had safely escaped after their run-in with Bryce.

That story would have to wait. Shaking his head, he grabbed a handful of Adams’ shirt and flung him out in the open. A gunshot missed his head by a gnat’s wing.

“I’m unarmed!” Adams hands flew up. “He’s behind the tree! Shoot him!”

“Mmmph – gah – no!” Chuck must’ve either bit Liam or the larger man let him lose, but Casey heard him draw in a huge breath. “Casey, Casey - my dad was sneaking up on you! Are you okay?!”

Casey rolled his eyes. Nice timing, pancake.

“Fine,” he growled.

“Hold still, boy,” he heard Liam warn. “Trying to get us killed?”

“Bartowski, if you’re still struggling, I’m going to throw your ass off that thing!”

“Great plan!” Chuck barked back at Casey, a little too fearful to be sarcastic but damn close. “Now do something about your boss!”

“Give me your gun,” Adams yelled over. The blood continued to ooze over his hand, down his shirt sleeve. “I’ll shoot him for you and end this once and for all.”

“And let you have the pleasure?” Liam snorted. “Hardly.”

“The longer we stand here deciding who will shoot who,” Casey said, leveling his gun at Adams’ head, “the more likely your precious Cipher will get carried away by the current.”

He used the surprise on Adams’ face to step out from behind the tree, pointing his other gun in the direction of the bridge over the river. The sound of Chuck trying to struggle out of Liam’s grip made him want to kick his skinny ass, but it wasn’t like he could stop him from here.

“Every second it goes further down the stream, doesn’t it? Pages soaked, binding ripped. Makes you wonder how much you could save of it. Only if you jumped in right now, of course.” Casey tipped his head towards the river, letting the man listen to the rushing water. “Huh. There went a little more of it.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done!” As Adams glared at him, Casey could see the man’s wheels turning. There was still a pressing desire to just pull the trigger, though Casey’s brain told him the unavoidable panic attack would send the kid straight into the roiling drink. “The power it has - it’s irreplaceable!”

“Yeah, so I heard.” Casey looked less than impressed. “How badly do you want it?”

“Gah!” Adams wiped his face, unknowingly leaving streaks of blood across his cheeks. “Just so you know, when I find you again, I’m going to shoot you myself,” he bit out, even as he yanked off his jacket and hat, ready to scramble into the water. “My son will be without his ... depraved lover when I’m done.”

“Nah, but he will be without an asshole of a father,” Casey replied evenly. “Mark my words. I’ll only say this once. The kid isn’t ready to see you die today. Damn shame in my book, but I’m letting you go for now.” He grabbed the man’s shirt and hauled him close, until Casey could see nothing but startled dark eyes filled with hatred. “If you come within two states of him ... if I even get a sniff of your putrid scent ... well, there’ll be nothing but a few fancy threads and a black bowler hat for the wolves to feed on when I’m done with you.”

Adams tried to break out of his grip. Good luck with that. “You’re nothing but threats, Mr. Casey,” he said.

Casey’s fists tightened. Then twisted, curling the fabric in his hand. The sound of ripping cloth had Adams looking down and his face began to turn a nice shade of purple.

Casey took a moment to enjoy it before he said, “Funny thing about that. Bryce Larkin thought so, too.”

The cowering look was gratifying. With one last shake, Casey half released, half tossed him away like the piece of trash he was.

Adams staggered but caught himself. At least he knew it was best to keep his mouth shut. Straightaway, he shot upright, his eyes searching desperately over his son one last time. To do what, Casey had no idea, because trying to bargain for the kid would earn him that bullet and a trip down the river face first.

Evidently, the pompous prick figured that out. “I never give up, John,” Adams growled at him.

“Good, because it’s ten feet deep around the bend,” Casey said, “and that book is sinking fast.”

“You – you animal.” He hesitated, looking down the bank to the water. “I’ll kill you someday for this.”

Casey answered by taking one hand and grabbing the back of his britches. “On second thought, I’ll help you fetch,” he said and swinging him back like a bale of hay, he tossed him into the river. “Watch out for the – eh, never mind. Looks like you found it.”

Casey didn’t see Adams rebound off the log or disappear after getting chest deep. He didn’t see him go around the bend, where the rocks and branches made a dangerous, black swirling eddy, like a cyclone under water. He didn’t hear anything after the stream of curses that finally dwindled, drowned out by the rush of water against the rocks.

When Casey turned, he almost felt his ivory grip slip out of his sweaty hand.

Blood.

One of the shots from somewhere had strayed. And now, the kid was too busy staring down glassy-eyed at his ripped jeans, where blood leaked out and down his pant leg, down his ankle, forming sticky maroon-black splotches on the bark.

“Never bring an unarmed man into a gunfight, Johnnie,” Liam said, affecting nonchalance. As Chuck swayed, the larger man had to work a little harder to keep the kid upright, but he was enjoying the show nonetheless. “Isn’t that right, puppy?”

Chuck lifted his head to blink at Casey, and he could see his young lover was beginning to shake, had gone beyond the pale of a floating fish. “Ca-Casey ... sorry ....”

“You shot him.” Casey said the three words, breathed them out like fire, and he had an answer in the intelligible noise the kid made that meant nothing in words, but spoke directly to his heart. A harsh breath, and Liam kicked the kid’s legs out wider, dropping him down almost to his knees on the log as Liam held his hair now.

Chuck cried out in pain, a pain matched only in the agony Casey felt swamping him, his stomach drawn up so tight and wanting to pound Liam to dust, scatter his ashes everywhere.

“Too bad, isn’t it? You never know when a bullet might drift off the target.” Liam’s tongue clacked in fake remorse. “Looks like you’ll watch him die sooner than I planned. Pity, isn’t it?”

x-End Chapter Seventeen Where the Road Ends-x-


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

-x-

“If you drop him,” Casey said through a throat that was suddenly on fire, “there’s nothing to stop me from shooting you,”

“Look at you, Johnnie,” Liam replied, making a tsk noise, and as he held Chuck up by a handful of sweat-soaked hair, his smirk grew with every word. “I’ve never seen you flinch at the sight of blood before. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact it’s flowing – quite profusely, I must say – from your sweet little lover? Hm?”

Casey had to work at it to unclench his fist. It was the reaction, any reaction, any emotion exploding out of him in a rush that Liam craved.

That made it the one thing he couldn’t give him.

“Hey, let’s test that theory,” Casey growled. “Wanna see if I flinch at the sight of your blood?” Then he dared to look down at the kid’s torn jeans, the flow already turning the denim an ill-boding shade of maroon. The bullet hole wasn’t visible, either too blood-covered or not near the rip. Unable to assess the damage, Casey peered up to see Chuck blinking hazily, his chest beginning to heave with shallow gulps of air. It wasn’t a bad dream. Now they shared something else in common. They got to witness the aftermath of the other being shot. Casey tried to block out the fact that Chuck had fainted that night back at the farm. Fainting would send him straight into the drink below.

“C-Casey?” Chuck brought up his bound wrists to rub his eyes. “What happened?”

‘You’ve been shot, idiot!’ was probably not going to earn him any points. Besides, the anger wasn’t meant for the kid.

“Just ... hold still, will you?” What else could he tell him? Stop bleeding? Casey just shook his head at himself, feeling the sweat sliding, greasy and unwelcome, between his shoulder blades and down his spine. God knows he had seen enough men bleed out in his life, at times being the cause of that unfortunate set of circumstances, and he knew the kid only had a few minutes tops before he lost consciousness.

If Chuck did pass out, Liam wouldn’t think twice about it. Hell, yes, he would toss him in.

Casey was already inching forward, bracing himself for a splash. It may not be the Grand Finale the asshole had planned for them, but satisfying enough if Casey got to watch the kid suffer. It’d end with a simple push, like ridding himself of a minor nuisance. In Liam’s mind, the kid was nothing more than a used-up piece of trash, something to be disposed of on the way to depositing his cash.

Like hell that was going to happen.

“Liam, if you do it,” Casey said in a voice so low it scratched the ground, “there will be no place you can hide.”

“Aw, worried, Johnnie?” Liam flashed his wolf-smile. “How far down do you think it is to the bottom?”

Despite himself, Casey tilted his head to survey the water. Seaweed swirled in a dark, speckled pool between rocks, caught like lithe bodies roiling in the current. The sunlight filtering between the branches overhead couldn’t cut to the lowest depth, and the tree’s shadows turned the gurgling water murky and ink-black.

And soon, very soon, unless he did what he came to do, Chuck’s body would float down the churning river, slowly sinking and carried at the same time along the moving current.

In nothing flat, Rudy’s words from three days ago swung a gut punch at him. ‘Ever see a man washed up in a swamp? Not what you think, Johnnie-boy. I once saw a poor fella swell up like a cow’s belly, the skin that’s left, anyway ... where the fish didn’t get it? Damndest thing, too. That man turned black as the inside of the deepest silver mine. Wanna see what it would do to yer boy there?’

“So it comes down to this, I’m afraid,” Liam said, and one more time, he shoved the muzzle against the kid’s temple. It might not be a bad thing that Chuck’s eyes popped open when he felt it, except now Casey had to face the hurt within them. “Sorry to ruin your day by not dying yet. You’ll have to drop your gun, Johnnie.”

“N-no, Casey,” Chuck said, still trying to get his fool-self killed, apparently, by squirming around. “Let him ... do it ... let him pull the tr-trigger if he has to.”

Casey was so distracted by the blood flowing freely and Liam’s smirk that it took a minute to process the words. When he did, something drove a spike very low in his belly. The gun’s barrel almost wobbled. “That’s not the way this is gonna happen, so shut up, kid.”

“Ah, what a noble sacrifice your boy is willing to make.” Liam heaved a sigh of mock pity before he nodded at the grassy bank. Both satchels, stuffed with cash, lay in a heap. “Oh, well. Either way – now that my money has been returned to its rightful owner -”

Casey snorted. “Heh. Who would that be?”

“And your sick little boy is in my possession,” Liam went on dryly, “I think it’s time for me to declare victory. Tonight will be epic, won’t it Johnnie? If he makes it that long. Does the sight of his blood bother you, boyo?”

Immediately, Casey’s eyes cut down to the kid’s upper thigh. The blood cascaded down his leg, his bare feet, over the log. Jesus. Was the bullet hole near his stomach? “You want him alive for tonight, don’t you?” Casey asked. “We discussed it in depth. So now it looks like you’ll need to get down off the log and bring him here, unless you wanted to show me you can hump a dead man. Though I’m sure you’ve tried it before.”

Liam tilted his head and grabbed the back of Chuck’s neck. “How true,” he said, vague enough to make Casey wonder if he had delved into necrophilia. Shaking that image off, he watched as Liam dragged the kid up to him in human-shield style again. It ensured a gunshot would have to go through Chuck first. “But without staunching the bullet hole, I believe the injury will get him first. Do you concur, Johnnie-boy?”

Casey’s eyes promised death to his former partner, but there was no denying he was right. As long as the muzzle was pressed to the kid’s head, Casey was trapped. He stood at least six feet from the end of the wide log that served as a bridge. To cross to the center of it would take another ten paces or so. What were the odds of getting to the kid before he got pushed in? Or shot? Again, Casey’s brain taunted. His current position left more than enough time for Liam to do either of those things.

Casey debated another few seconds and decided he had to face the truth. Unless he found a way to get off a kill shot, sprout wings and then fins, it would be time to move to Plan B. Or maybe they were on Plan Fucked-up to all Y by now.

“Still thinking? I believe it’s time to collect my money, Johnnie,” Liam said. When Casey didn’t move, Liam eventually rolled his eyes and jammed the muzzle twice as hard to Chuck’s temple. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Ow, ow, ow ....” The kid attempted to yank his head back, or as much as he could try with the tight restraint on his hair. At each movement and shift of their bodies, the log wobbled under their feet. “No ... please, Casey.”

“Do you really think I won’t kill him?” Liam asked, his voice morbidly amused. “It would be so easy, too. Would you like to see how?”

“Don’t you fucking dare –“ Casey stiffened as a huge hand slid over Chuck’s throat, clenching into his windpipe. “You have what you want, God dammit.”

“Not quite. Drop the gun and go fetch the bags with the money like the good little dog I know you can be.” His fingers squeezed in, ever so slightly, making the kid’s eyes bulge. “Or I will end his worthless life right now, John.”

“You won’t do it,” Casey said lowly, his mouth flooding with the taste of copper, hot fear. His boot slid in a step, then another. “The moment you drop him or ... strangle him, I’ll lodge a bullet in your brain.” No sense going for the heart, since the man obviously was born without that certain nuisance. “If you do it, nothing else will matter.”

“Case ....” Chuck let out a tiny moan and went still, the fight gradually slipping out of him. “Jus’ go.”

Casey exchanged a glance with Liam before both men turned to assess the kid. His usually expressive, mobile face had gone slack and bone-white. Casey’s eyes then then drew down to the growing splotch on his pants. They were soaked. The sight of it made Casey’s own reaction creep up, slowly, tortuously. One part of him wanted to pull the trigger and take the chance, though cold logic told him they’d be dead men. The only thing he ever really wanted was out of reach. To be back home with Chuck where nothing was between them.

Casey took a deep breath, forced it out, tried not to think about it.

“Looks like we’re at a standstill,” he said, eyeing his ex-boss down the barrel.

“I don’t think so,” Liam replied, so completely nonchalant as he held the kid by the throat. “The only defense you have, Johnnie-boy, is that gun right there. And it still stands: shoot me, I drop him.”

Chuck clawed uselessly, fighting to get oxygen. “C-Casey – let him ....”

“Ah, judging by the way his pulse picked up, I’d say he’s quite fond of you,” Liam said. Changing his mind, he loosened the hand on the kid’s throat and passed it tenderly over his hair, but maintained his sneer. “Good boy. He’s willing to die for you, laddie. Did you know that? Holy Christ. Pathetic. But that’s love, isn’t it?” With the hand in Chuck’s hair, he clenched his fingers around a fistful of curls and tugged to the point of pain. “The real question is will you do the same. So let me ask. Are you willing to die for him today, Johnnie?”

“No,” the kid managed, wincing. “He’s ... n-not!”

“Shut up,” Liam ordered, giving Chuck’s head a brusque shake. “Let your lover decide. Here, this might help.” The bear of a man nudged the kid’s knees further apart, purposely letting his bare foot slide down before he somehow found purchase. “Does your boy know how to swim, Johnnie? Oh, maybe so ... but tied up like this? Without his arms – and I daresay, those long legs aren’t going to do him much good now, are they? At least one of them, anyway.”

Casey squinted at Liam, shifted the gun in his hand. His palm was wet. “All those years, I had the privilege of working under your meticulous tutelage. And you taught me a few things.”

“Many things, yet one has stuck with you, I suppose?”

“Yeah, when a man has everything, there’s only one more thing he really wants.”

“What’s that?”

“I said it, asshole. More. More money, more power, more hurt to spread around. One more try for the thing he can’t have. So, Liam, tell me: what is it that you really want?”

A corner of Liam’s lip curled up. “Oh, he’s warm, Johnnie,” he murmured, and the big hand on Chuck’s chest began to move, stroking down over his pecs, his flat belly. “Let me enjoy this for a moment while I think about it.”

“Stop dicking around.” Casey’s eyes cut to Chuck when he began a coughing fit. It was relief, he reckoned, since at least he was breathing. “Name your price. The real one.”

“You were always the brightest and best. That’s why I always wanted you ... in every way imaginable. Not that you would ever return the favor. You never would succumb to my subtle advances, would you?”

“Subtle.” Casey snorted with disdain. “Subtle as a bronco kick to the nuts.”

“Ah, bravo again.” Liam’s face might be inscrutable, but Casey knew the reaction was simmering under the surface. For all his outward polish, the man could be an even meaner son of a bitch when his own secret was dragged out into the open. “I had a suspicion you always knew. And why not? Your intelligence was only surpassed by your willingness to finish the job. Any job. A trait I always admired.” His eyes turned to black ice. “Until now.”

Casey glanced at Chuck. The kid’s eyes were squeezed shut. Maybe he wouldn’t hear this part, or maybe pigs would fly out of his ass right now. “This is my punishment, but it’s not what you want.”

“What is it?” Liam snarled.

“Losing your money was one thing, but it was never just that, was it? You’ve been pissed as hell since I broke out of the barn and left in the night to find a lost kid, but that wasn’t what hollowed you out.”

“Lovely that you’re going to explain it to me,” Liam responded, “since your little fag here took control of your life.”

“Ca-Casey.” Chuck, meanwhile, gave his boyfriend a wide-eyed look and coughed out some of the phlegm that had gathered in his chest. “Don’t ... let him.”

“It’s me you want,” Casey went on, ignoring his partner. “The betrayal gutted you, didn’t it? Especially since I never gave you that roll in the sheets you were after.”

“Wise. I’m so ... proud of you. Really, I am.” Liam rested his tongue on his bottom lip and examined Casey, making him suddenly feel like a prime piece of meat that had fallen off his plate. “But it was more than that I wanted.”

“A trade-off, then.” Casey saw the kid nearly teeter off of his feet as he looked from him to Liam. “Me ... for his freedom.”

“Now you’re the one willing to make the sacrifice? Priceless.”

“Yes,” Casey said as his feet shuffled a little closer. “Whatever it takes.”

“Wh-what was that?”

Casey looked over to see Chuck’s brows shoot up under his curls. Great. Now the kid is paying attention?

Liam smiled, his black eyes flickering with fire. “While I think about it, throw down the gun. Get the bag.”

“Or what?” Casey growled.

“Or I’ll kill him.” His touch drifted down Chuck’s front, groping his ribcage, lower to his waist. By the time he got a hold on the kid’s thigh, he used it to press against him, pushing. The side of the log rocked. “I swear I will. I want what you took. I want my money.”

“You want to punish me.”

Liam took a moment to weigh that. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want ... you,” he said huskily. “Severely punished.”

Chuck looked over at him, and despite the flowing blood, something shifted in his dark eyes. Something that looked like stubbornness. “C-Casey, I’m telling you no.”

“Quiet, boy,” Liam said. “Let the adults sort this out.”

“I won’t l-let you, John,” Chuck said. Finding a hidden reserve of energy, he started to try and kick free again. If you could call it that, Casey thought, doing his best not to stare at the spreading blood.

“Spunky for a skinny one, isn’t he?”

“Make your decision,” Casey muttered and now the gun leveled off again, even if Chuck’s head kept moving over the target.

“Why should I?” Liam scoffed. “Either way, I’ll get what I want. And as long as I have your sweet little puppy, you’ll never get what you want.”

“Except ... cooperation,” Casey observed, and then lowered his voice to say, “Between the sheets.”

This got the bastard’s attention, at least. “For his freedom?”

“You heard me.”

Raising his gaze, Liam digested that. “No, I want all of it. But I can make it easy on you, Johnnie ... if you do cooperate? I might even let him live.” He shrugged. “Well, a little longer.”

“That’s not enough? Just to get that fuck you always wanted from me?”

“No.” There was an ugly detachment when Liam bared his teeth in a fuller smile. “I rather like the idea of prolonging your misery.”

“I prefer to get things over quickly with when it comes down to ending something miserable.”

“We always saw differently there.”

Before Casey could retort, he heard a sound that crackled over the constant gurgling and frothing of the river. Footsteps. Not from the path, which was where he would expect any noises to come from. No, he heard these footsteps behind him, where there was nothing but the woods -

“Wha – what are you doing here?” Chuck’s eyes, looking hazy a minute ago, snapped to attention. “How did you ...?”

Casey kept his gun pointed at Liam, noticing the way the other man’s eyes darkened as he looked past Casey’s shoulder. “My, what a surprise,” he said, and after a brief frown, appeared completely unaffected as he spoke to the person behind Casey. “I have to give you some credit.”

Warily, Casey half-turned. A figure in brown stepped out from behind a tree, making his eyes momentarily widen before he remembered to assume the dire, badass squint every near-death circumstance required. He then bit his lip in frustration and re-aimed the barrel at his ex-boss.

That’s what this situation needed. More hostages.

“Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Casey muttered out the side of his mouth.

“Pleasant day to you, too, Johnnie. Pardonez-moi that I thought you may need some help.”

Just his luck. He found the one Frenchie who has a set of balls. Figuratively, of course, though he had never checked under the skirt. “You really think getting yourself killed is gonna help me?”

“Welcome to our little party.” Liam’s lips firmed into a line of disapproval. “How did you get here?”

“I gnawed my arm off.”

In other circumstances, Casey would be slightly amused that both his ex-boss and Chuck glanced down at her arms to see that they were still intact. “Your woman is clever, Johnnie. Maybe too clever for her own good.”

“Va au diable,” Sabine spit out at him, eying him down the barrel of her rifle.

“I don’t speak frog,” Liam said.

Casey rolled his eyes. “That’s French for ‘like hell I’m anyone’s woman.’”

“Sabine – you sh-shouldn’t be here,” Chuck rasped. The kid pulled at his wrists as if he had a chance at breaking through the rope. Give up, pancake. You wanna make it worse? “Please – he doesn’t want you. Just ... run, okay?”

“Chivalry. Another charming characteristic.” Liam inclined his head toward Chuck, studying his profile. The kid didn’t see it coming, but Casey did. The larger man tightened his hold in his hair and kneed him hard in the stomach. “Unfortunately, there’s no room for it here with that obviously conniving slut of yours.”

Chuck grunted and went forward hard enough to almost lose his foothold. It apparently didn’t stop him from being Chuck, though. “Conniving, maybe, asshole,” he said, wheezing a little, “but she’ll be very angry for the other part.”

“And you’ll be very dead,” Liam told him. An arm slid around the kid’s bare chest to get him upright again. The muzzle stayed glued to Chuck’s temple, making it impossible to get off a shot. “Haven’t you lost enough blood already?”

“But you haven’t yet!” Chuck thought of something else. “And that’s n-not his woman!”

“Heh. Good point.” The second knee to the stomach had to hurt worse. When Chuck doubled over, Liam returned his focus to Casey. “I believe you’re right, though. How silly of me,” he said, jerking the kid back up again. “I can see she’s not yours, Johnnie. But this pathetic one? You’d love to come and lay claim to him again, wouldn’t you?”

“Case ... just go ....” Chuck straightened, straining against his bonds. “Not gonna let ... this asshole hurt you.”

“Chuck – stay out of it.”

“Yes, I agree, Johnnie. He’s needs a demonstration on why he should.” This time, Liam drove his elbow into Chuck’s bruised ribcage. “Did that do the trick, boyo?”

“Wh-what ... did I do that time?” Chuck wheezed as he blinked up at him. “Was it the asshole comment? B-because I meant enormous, mountain-sized asshole!”

“Chuck, now I’m the one warning you to shut up,” Casey said, giving him a squint that warned him of dire things if he didn’t obey. “Liam, let these two go. Your problem is with me.”

“Yes. And this is tiresome. You. Woman.” Liam gave a nod to her and then used Chuck’s neck as a handle to pull him up against his body. “Our fine boy here is going to pass out and drown soon, isn’t he? What a shame to see it happen. Now, if you want to make this go away, you’ll follow my instructions. Can you handle that, or should I shoot you now?””

“Go to hell,” Sabine replied.

Testiness spread over Liam’s face. “Johnnie, you should know my arm is getting tired.”

Casey darted a look down at the roiling, swollen river. His heart, which really hadn’t received a break since Chuck was dragged out on the log, clocked new speed records. “If you drop him, this is over for you before he hits the water,” Casey said.

“But it’s over for your boy, too, isn’t it?” Liam only smiled. “Ah, what a dilemma ... and now with the girl in the mix. That complicates things, doesn’t it? Well, let me uncomplicate it then, hm?”

Casey heard the unmistakable hiss, just as Liam kicked Chuck’s ankle to make him stumble. “Hey – don’t -”

“Liam, I’m done with the game.” Casey leveled the barrel.

“Good, so am I,” Liam said. He swung his arm around and pointed the gun at a new target.

To Casey’s surprise, it wasn’t at him.

Instead, it was aimed directly at Sabine’s head.

“Drop your rifle, woman. Or I push the kid and pull the trigger at the same time. If you don’t believe I’m capable of that, just ask your friend.”

Next to him, he heard Sabine suck in an instinctual gasp. “Bastard.”

“Here’s the deal, Johnnie,” Liam said, sounding bored as he tilted the gun in a single-handed grip. “One push, and your little hurt lamb goes in, and I put a bullet in her head.” He drew his eyes down to the copiously-flowing bullet hole. Blood was now dripping into the water, Casey saw now. “Or you can both drop your guns, let her tie your hands ... and I’ll give her the kid. He ... might live ... or he may not. Your decision.”

“Casey, Ca – no,” Chuck blurted. “He’s lying!” When the kid swayed and lost balance, a half second before Liam took hold of his waistband and pulled him back, Casey almost took a wild-ass leap after him. But the stark reality was he’d be shot in the head first before he could reach Chuck.

“You’re making me wait, Johnnie. Should I shoot the girl, too?”

Casey’s body remained rigid. Son of a bitch. It’s going to come to this. If he thought he’d get out of here without having the experience of Chuck’s disbelief borne of betrayal pointed at him, well, that was gone now. He was really going to make him do it.

Casey eyed both of them and then nodded, one slow movement. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Sabine punched him in the arm. “Don’t you dare drop your gun.”

“Sabine,” was all he said. You have to trust me.

“Let’s see it, Johnnie,” Liam said. “First, your weapon.”

With every muscle along his arm taut as rope, it took a minute to unclench his fingers, as they had been clutching the handle of the gun as if it was Liam’s throat. When his fingers finally relaxed, Casey merely tossed the gun on the ground, not even looking at where it landed. He had to admit, it felt weird to finally let go.

“You stubborn ass,” he heard Sabine grumble.

“You would do it for me,” Casey shot back at her.

“Loyalty. How quaint.” Liam inclined his head at him, making his bowler hat tilt, and it would’ve been a small consolation to see it land in the river. But it didn’t. “It’s only something else to make you weak. You could’ve walked away, Johnnie. From him ... your poor bruised boy right here. From her. But you didn’t.”

Casey refused to move his head to look at Sabine, unwilling to break eye contact with Liam if he did. Every second watching Chuck felt like an eternity with his heart in his throat.

“There. Happy now?” Casey moved in closer, cautiously, and put his hands out to the side and only halfway in the air. But it was his gaze straight ahead where all his energy was concentrated. They both knew the kid was on the brink of losing consciousness, and Liam wouldn’t think twice of just letting go.

“That’s close enough, Johnnie.”

“Now what? He goes in? There are worse ways to get rid of people, I reckon.” Several in fact, and Casey was damn well going to show Liam what he meant.

Liam smiled at the sudden show of brashness. “Woman. Over here,” he said, barely sending a dismissive glance to Sabine. “Take off his belt and use it to tie his hands behind his back.”

“Not until the kid is free,” Casey demanded.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Liam laughed and pulled Chuck to his body, making the kid squirm. “You lost, laddie. No more bullets. The money is right there – all mine.” Reaching down, he straightened the kid’s arms out in front of him by grabbing the binding. “And I have him, of course.”

“Mmgn ... Casey ....” Chuck’s voice, almost a murmur, sent a ripple of response through Casey’s body. Those brown eyes swam in the pain he refused to acknowledge. “I told you to get ... out of here ....”

As Casey’s eyes narrowed at him, he thought of the long talk they were going to have about misguided bravery.

It’d probably end with a little more than talking if Casey had his way.

When he heard footsteps in the grass behind him, he knew Sabine had accepted her part to play in Liam’s theatrics. “Hold still, Johnnie,” she said stiffly. “I need your belt.”

“Now you’re being a good girl.” Liam lifted one hand to Chuck’s jaw, holding him steady and forcing him to watch. The bastard had no idea how much Casey appreciated the assistance. “I knew you could be cooperative with the right motivation.”

Casey stepped in front of her, the few paces that took him right up to the end of the log. So close. He inhaled one last wish to reel in the kid’s scent if the next minute went to fucking hell. So God damn easily, it could.

“Lift your arms, Johnnie,” Sabine said. Obediently, Casey did, giving her access to his belt. His only saving grace, he knew, was that it also gave him the perfect excuse to reach with his hands without suspicion.

“Careful back there,” Casey muttered, just because he had to when someone touched him. Someone else, anyway. “Private property, eh?”

“Johnnie,” he heard her hiss without moving her lips. “Last night ... sitting at the fire ... you said le dernier recours.” As she whispered, he felt the tugging around his waist. “Now is the time.”

The last resort. When all other options had the life snuffed out of them.

Chuck would hate him for this. The Keeper, whatever the fuck that was, would hate him for this. For what he was about to do, had to do.

Casey forced his misgivings down. It took every bit of willpower not to just launch himself at the kid, extract him from the thick arms, cage-like around his lean body and run.

Wanna get shot in the back, idiot?

Because of that, he took another step, up onto the bridge.

“I said that’s close enough, Johnnie.”

“Casey ....” Chuck’s legs wobbled, his brown eyes closed briefly, and now Casey was close enough to gather in the scent of his perspiration and fear rolling off his skin. “I won’t ... hate you for any of this. Not your fault.”

Jesus Christ. There was no way the kid knew. Hearing him, a shiver ran through his body now, making him want to snap and bite like a wolf. He’d gotten to the end, the kid was still alive, and he had a vision of the places he could take them both.

You’re The Keeper.

The words made his stomach tighten again. An electrifying sensation, twizzling, was moving up his arm now and down to his hand as he reached into the pocket. Casey had seen it happen twice. No, he wasn’t drunk, either. The design. Pictures. Geometric shapes, meaningless wiggles and concentric circles. Just nonsense-kiddie drawings from a manuscript as old as dust. But there was no denying the mind control, like the stuff only dreamers and writers imagined.

Hell, it shouldn’t have meant anything,

Unfortunately, Casey realized as dread slicked down his lungs to sit in his stomach, it meant everything. There was still one weapon at his disposal. It could control ... him.

Casey shifted his gaze over Chuck, his blood-drenched pants, his bare chest heaving. Visible tremors moved up his legs to his chest, but the kid managed to keep absolutely erect. Unbelievable. How was he still able to stand?

Somehow or other, though he had no idea in what way, in the end it really was the kid who held all the power. Funny that Chuck looked nothing like a weapon.

“Hands behind your back,” Liam ordered, nodding at him. “Not like your little fishy here. Though swimming would be a problem, wouldn’t it, kid?”

“Casey, don’t l-listen to him!”

“Get a move on, Sabine.”

“Johnnie.”

“Do it.”

Sabine made a frustrated noise and nudged his back. At the touch, Casey began to slide his hands behind his back like the obedient captive he wanted Liam to see. They made a detour for his back pocket.

“Johnnie, whatever it is ... you do it,” he heard Sabine whisper.

That much faith in him, that he still had a last thread of hope, sliding, unraveling quicksilver between his fingers, was like a kick in the gut. Where in the hell did she find that much conviction? When even he still held doubts?

“Chuck, look at me,” Casey spoke, his voice rough. As the kid’s dark eyes, filled with heartbreaking confusion, locked with his, Casey cast one loathing glance at Liam before he returned his focus to Chuck. “Keep it together. I need you to pay attention.”

“To ... what?”

You’ll see. Watching his bewildered, bruised face, Casey’s fingers itched to stroke his arms all the way down, soothe his wrists with his own hot palms. Take him by the hands and rope, as if they were bound together. They were, too. After all of this, two slaves to Fate, maybe to lo-

“Get on with it woman.” Liam raised an eager gaze to his former associate. “Dangerous animals need to be subdued ... before they’re taught who their Master is. Oh, you’ll learn Johnnie. Just like the lesson I taught your boy last night.”

Casey ignored him, no matter how badly he wanted to strangle him for any lesson he had subjected the kid to. “Chuck. Look at me.” When the kid blinked at him, Casey hesitated and lowered his voice. “You might hate me for a while.”

“I don’t get it,” Chuck stammered, and with the last bit of strength he seemed to have, he tried to pull away. His eyes were bright and wide, and that was good. “Why?”

“For this.”

Without wasting another second they didn’t have, Casey pulled out the yellowed, crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. Carrying it since finding that cursed book in the kid’s room - what seemed like years ago but what was in reality only a few days - he only hoped he remembered the page Chuck had shown him. That night flitted through his mind like a vague dream. The pitch black woods behind the lodge, sitting on the uncomfortable woodpile and trying to make sense of the utter crap the kid had just told him.

At the time, he thought Liam was right. His new boy toy was insane, Casey had secretly lamented.

But that night, the kid opened the Cipher, flashed the page. And then Chuck demonstrated one overwhelming yet astonishing facet of the Cipher’s power.

As the paper fell, Casey put his boot out to stop it on the ground, holding down the corner.

Let everything but the energy go, and see where it takes you ....

Can you do that?

Chuck blinked. “Case ... what ... did you do?”

“Hey.” Liam tipped his chin down, squinting, before arching a brow at Casey. “What the fuck is that thing?” he growled.

Behind him, he heard Sabine take a step closer. “Johnnie ...?”

Casey tried to stomp down but the regret, but it welled up and sprang, made it hard to breathe. His lover deserved better than him, better than any of this. Chuck had told him, quite stubbornly in only the way his young boyfriend could when he set his mind to it, this was never to happen again.

Who was the traitor now?

‘I’m sorry Chuck,’ Casey thought, and damn he really was, ‘but you have to do this one more time.’

“How?” Ducking his head, Chuck drew his attention to the yellowed paper. He saw it first with puzzlement, chased by a momentary start, then recognition. “Why are you –” was all Chuck had time to say before the thing he called a flash struck.

The kid eyelid’s fluttered at the oncoming episode, so wildly at opposite poles from his other attacks – and wasn’t it just Casey’s luck that he now could tell the difference?

Liam cursed under his breath and re-aimed the gun at Chuck’s head. “What’s going on?”

“Chuck, you have to –”

“No, no, no –” Chuck jerked his head up, those brown eyes rolling back and unfocused. He seemed to put some effort into fighting it back, but that was the one thing Casey couldn’t have happen.

“What the fuck is wrong with him now?” Liam shook his head, kept hold of the kid’s arm. “Now you’re trying to kill him? That was my job, Johnnie.”

“Oh, merde,” he heard Sabine whisper behind him.

Chuck blinked asleep, though his eyes never closed. The Cipher seemed to play drums behind his eyelids. It picked up steam like a huffing, hungry locomotive engine. Casey couldn’t believe he had just called it that in his head, like it was real. Like this was really going to happen.

Their lives depended on the premise that it would. That what Casey saw in the woods that night wasn’t something that had slinked out of a dream. Everything the kid told him had to be true.

“Ah, that’s a sad sight, Johnnie,” Liam said, now misinterpreting the flash for a death spasm. “Looks like your fish isn’t going to make it.”

“Chuck.” Casey’s soft utterance was like a prayer. And in a way, that’s exactly what it was.

Chuck batted his eyes yet again, but the flash didn’t stop. What was he seeing? What was going through that damn big brain of his?

As Casey watched, the kid’s eyes blew wide and he drew in a huge gulp of air. His boyfriend’s world seemed to be spinning, as though he was being pulled inside out by a puppet master. All of these things were true, though Casey had let go of the string.

-x-

Chuck almost heard the music from the river crescendo as the flash smacked him. His body was frozen, completely unable to move in a way that should’ve been a brutal reminder that he was having one of his panic attacks.

Except, rather inconveniently, he had already demonstrated that bit of wizardry to his audience, and that attack had nothing on this bit of embarrassing magic.

There was a deep humming noise coming from a place nearby. He thought it might be the log he stood on or a stand of nearby trees. A wasp nest was lodged in the crevice of the wide trunk beneath his feet, and he placed one of his feet further away and looked down into the tiny cleft.

The truth was nothing came from there. It was his head. It thrummed, not as the wasp nest he originally guessed, but now more in the heavy, bottled-up force of fire the second after it’s doused with gasoline –

Yep. He was flashing.

It didn’t quite wipe out the burning pain in his leg. It just moved it down the list of things to freak out about. But damn, it hurt.

The forest became burnt-orange, glowing like the rim of a sunset. Each tree, each leaf seemed to blast at him like a dragon spouting flames, but the truth was nothing moved, nothing changed, yet the awful, familiar experience put the taste of ashes in his mouth.

The utter detachment from body and brain was so great that he lost all sense of where he was, or why he was here in the first place.

Well, that wasn’t true, either. There were two men close by. One he wanted to see hurt and broken more than anything he had ever felt. The other made his body shiver in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic.

He felt dizzy and sick. This dark place was in the soul of chaos, a disconnected place, and no power of body or mind was of use against the flames.

What the hell was going on? Why was this happening to him?

Better question. Why in God’s name would Casey do this to him now?

It all came rushing to him in one terrifying flood. The pain followed close behind on its heels. Liam is here. Get away. Immediately, Chuck tried to back away as fast as he could, moving so quickly that his foot caught the soft tickle of wet moss and he nearly fell. Something stronger than being in his dreams latched onto him and pulled him back, slamming him very firmly against a body hard as stone.

He stared down at the paper, sweating.

The page from the Cipher was caught under something, fluttering like his eyes.

It was like waking from a floating dream straight into the burst of movement of a high speed train. The sickening sensation made him ache with the urge to move.

What was stopping him? A grip almost like nothing he had felt before. Like Casey’s in the sheer strength behind it, but hurtful, not his lover’s guiding hold or the desire to make him steady.

Instinctively, though instincts were like needles, everywhere, he pulled back and stumbled on the stub of a long-dead branch at the top of the log. He half slid one leg down the side of the trunk, bark dragging along his bloody jeans until he was fetched up against the standing stone one more time. Arms ringed him; there was the sound of the river rushing, riotous.

He turned toward the one who had him in his grip. It was like a vice around his waist, dragging him backwards. Liam wasn’t going to let go. Chuck did his best to slug him, but that only reminded him his hands were tied in front.

The kid shook his head violently to clear it, but the noise went on between his ears and drowning out thoughts. There was nothing but the fog of noise.

“Chuck,” something said, yanking him alive. “Hang on ....”

To what? Of course, the only thing to hang onto was the man next to him. The man with the gun, pointed down the end of the log –

At someone else. Two someones.

Chuck’s brain and, oddly, his heart kicked all at once as a flash of recognition sunk between his eyes.

Someone he loved.

Or did love, at least, until he decided to play Russian Roulette with his brain.

Again, why?

Okay, in the back of his mind, something told him now was not the time to sort out the reason behind the flash. More pressing issues came to the forefront of his brain. Like the gun.

Because the giant holding him began to raise the pistol and the barrel looked huge, more like a cannon than a handgun. It continued to rise, up and up, until the man had it lifted past Chuck’s shoulder, pointing the muzzle and the kid’s body in the same direction. He had the vision of a mechanical insect, a giant praying mantis with bulging eyes ready to stretch out its stick legs and strike.

“That’s it, Johnnie. Your boy is broken. He just became dispensable. As did you, I’m afraid. Goodbye, laddie. Too bad. We had a good run, didn’t we? Oh, silly of me. First ... goodbye little fishy. At least you need to see that, don’t you, John?”

“Liam, no –”

The kid looked down to the turbulent water beneath his bloodied feet. To him, it was death. Now the inevitable hit him. Make no doubt about it, he told himself. He was going to be trapped right in the heart of it.

Chuck turned his head to see the man speaking. From the triumphant look on his captor’s face, the goon knew it, too.

“Oh ... no. No, no, no.” Chuck blinked, fighting his way through the flash. He had to control it.

If he couldn’t save himself, at least he had to do something before the man killed Casey and Sabine. Seemed like the polite thing to do ... even if he was still pissed as hell at his boyfriend!

‘Chuck, you have to’? To what? Casey’s order whisked through his mind, too fast and too jumbled to be much of use. Only one thing would help. Find a weapon, any weapon.

Well, he was bleeding, balancing on a log with a gun to his head. Did Casey really think this was the time Chuck could magically learn Kung Fu? But what the hell could he do?

Next to his head, the man’s hand held the gun pointed in a line with Casey’s head. That finger was curling on the trigger –

The page flapped. The symbol wove like a snake on the faded paper. It screamed between his ears.

All he had was the Cipher that Fate had saddled him with. Great. The thing in his brain that controlled him, turning him into a freak that could read into unknown dimensions, harness forces of nature at the worst possible times.

Use the weapon you have, he could hear Casey whisper.

Chuck had nothing.

Except ....

A red-tailed hawk sailing over the branches, a black silhouette against brilliant blue. Suddenly consumed by a bonfire in the sky, leaping around its feathered body and wings, and sprouting from its flesh outward.

The Cipher turned him into something else. Not himself. Into a weapon. He had done it before, years ago when they brought him to the woods. It was the reason he ran. His brain had heard the Cipher give the orders. Visual triggers skittered in front of his eyes.

Kind of like now, wasn’t it?

Don’t you see that, kid? Not violence. Think of it as justice.

Chuck fought off the sparkling stars edging into his sight. When he focused, Liam smiled cruelly at him. The ice never did leave his eyes.

“Swim,” the giant said.

He was too tired to swim. He was too tired of all the shit thrown at him. Tired of being manhandled, manipulated, and dangled in front of his boyfriend like a prize to be won. Tired of the abuse.

Hearing his thoughts, now the forest cast an orange glow over the river, the log vibrated though his toes and up his legs.

The Cipher told him he didn’t have to be hurt again.

There was a curse, possibly from Casey, knowing he had run out of time. “Chuck!”

As the kid drew all his attention, all his control, to the man standing next to him, Liam’s head snapped around in confusion. He raised his thick dark brows, the same shape as snakes, and his shrewd black eyes gleamed momentarily like the sheen of oil.

“What the hell are you doing?”

What ... I need to do.

It erupted up from the log, sprouting through the rough bark like the split tongue of the Devil.

Liam let go of him and shifted to one side, even as the fire began to bubble under his skin, roared its hunger for his flesh and his soul. The man jerked his head up in utter shock. “What – what have you done?!” he screeched like a hawk. “How?!”

“Not sure. Don’t care,” Casey deadpanned, staring because Chuck was still too busy flashing. “Jesus.”

Liam’s clothing burst into sparks and incinerated in hot-yellow flares. His hair, his skin, those black eyes became molten, liquefied. Yet he remained standing there, evaporating from within his flaps of grey clothing. Fading from fabric to skin to glistening organs.

Oh, God, that was foul.

“Mere de Dieu,” Sabine hissed. Dumbfounded, but then again, Chuck figured, maybe she had never witnessed a man burnt to crispy-doneness before.

“Kid, look out!” Casey called.

“What?” Chuck turned, but with the light and heat shimmering off his face, he realized too late that the Devil wasn’t quite done with him. It seemed the giant had one more last act as a human before he joined Lucifer for a wild ride through eternity on a snorting, flame-throwing bitch of a horse.

“You’re coming with me.”

And Liam O’ Doherty, a column of fire and frothing at the mouth, did his last act on earth by taking hold of Chuck’s arm - and giving him one last, good shove.

Chuck would never recall precisely how it happened, save for one moment he was still standing and there was a jerk, then there was no chance to catch his footing. His heel skidded helplessly down the side of the slime-coated log, his balance thrown off too far. Hands tied, blood-soaked jeans, still reeling from the flash and all, the kid got one more glimpse of the water rolling over and around the rocks before he looked up at the giant in flames.

My God, he had killed a man. He’d done that. He couldn’t think.

The burning tower reared back one more time, baring the firestorm consuming his face to the world. Chuck saw his boyfriend take in the sight of him, probably noticing the wide-eyed fear in the kid’s face. His lover’s eyes cut down to the ground, understanding too quickly what was going through his head. Scooping up Sabine’s rifle, his partner turned back to face Liam.

When it cracked once, Chuck closed his eyes. The second time, he ducked his head.

The third time, he felt his insides stop. The limbs within the bonfire crumbled.

And then of course, Chuck was too busy falling and sinking.

The flash ended. Time slammed back into place, hard. He was so stunned by the shock of the icy water rushing into his nose and mouth that he didn’t cry out. Grey bubbles shot out of his nose and rushed past his face toward the moving surface. The heavy denim fabric soaked through at once, and the freezing grip of the water paralyzed his breathing and his brain.

While the stream was only ten feet deep or so and he was usually a decent swimmer, there was nothing he could do with his arms. Let the alone his leg with a new bullet hole. The water in front of his eyes began to undulate with a pinkish-red hue.

The kid at once began to fight his way to the surface, but the rope around his wrists had not an inch of give. He yanked frantically at the bonds around him, but there was no hope of getting them off before he drowned.

In the ever-logical, scientific part of his brain, the kid had to wonder. Out of all the ways to die, this was how it was going to be? Because, if anything, falling out of the sky from the cockpit of his flying machine was the way he had (frighteningly) envisioned it.

Huh. Guess he was wrong about that.

Didn’t matter now. Nothing did. Chuck closed his eyes and said one final prayer, though the existence of any God had to be questioned now that He would let him die after all the shit he had been through. Heck, to survive this far, to go this far, to find a man to share a life with, only to get tossed under the swirling water? It didn’t seem fair, but then again most of his life wasn’t, starting with the Cipher stuck in his head and ending with sucking in mouthfuls of water.

With his one good leg, he kicked in a frenzy, and gave up when he felt himself only sinking faster into the current. The demon water had him up against an underwater rock; he could feel the stone behind his head and slinky threads of seaweed waving against his skin.

What was the last thing he saw above the water? Chuck tried to picture it, since he was pretty sure it would be the last memory he’d have.

It wasn’t the heap of ashes, an effigy of burning dust. It wasn’t the lush forest, Sabine’s eyes, or the page of the Cipher.

He and Casey were standing close enough then that he could see his lover’s face, resolute and intent, and if he was absorbed with the franticness of the battle, it only showed in his eyes. Raw courage, ice-cold presence of mind, and that instinct Chuck would understand the sacrifice he would make a million times over.

A man who had never spoken love to him, who had never needed to, for he knew Casey loved him as surely as he knew he would fly.

Consciousness fragmented into thousands of small separate sensations. The frigid moving water, sense of floating, his lungs frozen and ready to burst. Air bubbles ticked his face, his cheeks. A yellow fish, strangely circular, wavered in front of his eyes.

This was what it felt like to die, and he hoped it wouldn’t hurt anymore. The current lapped around him, swirling, taking him down the quieter water beneath his feet.

A slippery rock ran over his skin. Alive, it took hold of his wrist, pulling, away, away.

And after that, there was nothing but black.

x-End Chapter Eighteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Nineteen

-x-

“Chuck! Watch out. No!” The voice got shrill, punctuating the last syllable with a sharp stab of alarm. In the hazy, back part of his mind, Casey took in the fact he had never heard anything even close to a shriek from Sabine. Until now. “Casey!” she yelled, turning to him. “He’s in!”

Well, no time for the natural sarcasm at the obvious.

“Ki – hey! Hang on – fuck!”

Sabine knocked his shoulder as she sprinted past him. “Out of my way.”

Casey jolted but recovered quickly. “Not a chance,” he told her, catching up to the stubborn woman in two giant strides. “I don’t need to rescue two of you from the drink. Now stay put.”

“I can – John!”

Casey didn’t wait around for the inevitable argument. He simply went from still to galloping speed. Of course, that was when his heel slipped off a patch of loose, rough bark on the rounded edge of the log. It occurred to him that a logical man may have stopped to remove his heavy boots or denim jeans, sure to get logy with water in the next half second. But something as mundane as logic wasn’t the force that had him surging from the grassy bank to a precarious footing and finally funneling every ounce of muscle and energy to prepare to lunge off the side of it. It was something much stronger, infinitely stickier.

He managed to push off without slipping again, and dove. Then he was too busy falling and hoped to hell he wouldn’t hit the giant slab of granite jutting out of the water.

The last thing Casey saw before his own leap off the edge gutted him was the kid’s dark head going under.

God help him, the sight of the water sucking his young lover into its angry vortex was not going to be his last vision here on earth.

Chuck, do you know I’m here?

The kid had to feel his presence. There had to be a sudden crash of water over him, with the pressure and movement of the frigid water changing, swirling. Casey began at once to fight his way down to the muddy bottom, long arms outstretched and searching. Opening his eyes after the shock against his flesh, a veil of pink undulated around him in billows, floating in front of his face. It was agonizing to think that it would be the kid’s blood that would form a liquid trail to him, but Casey shoved his hands through the water and followed it down. The river, this deep, was crystal clear and racing. He groped frantically around a log at the bottom, kicking up muck and rocks.

Where the hell was he?

The blood trail glided through the water, a shapeless expansion, morphing like a nebulous cloud before the storm. His fingers brushed a large rock, sliding through the dark, slick streamers of duckweed and algae. Slippery as the kid’s flesh the night they cooled each other in Chuck’s stream at the farm, then warmed their bodies the rest of that night ....

The thought jarred him out of his panic. Suddenly, he realized the pink cloud wasn’t moving any longer and he followed it downward. The intermittent deep pool under the log bridge, where the scouring water had scooped out a yawning impression in the rock and sand, was perhaps only fifteen feet deep here, but it felt like a trip to hell.

Casey waved his arms wildly, trying to grab hold of anything that felt like a gangly arm or a leg, though he couldn’t even make out the kid just yet. Tentacles of green weeds and loose sand wafted by his face. Blowing out a frustrated spurt of bubbles, he clawed them away and balanced his boot on a log. His lungs were ready to burst and there were black spots floating in front of his eyes by the time he gained footing on the bottom. With luck, he’d spot the pink cloud – though it killed him to think of that as lucky. What he needed was to keep his head clear and search –

But where?

Casey untangled a glob of weeds from his neck, and as he tossed them to the current, he caught a glimpse of it; not the tell-tale discoloration, but bubbles ... drifting to the surface from behind a rock.

Chuck. The last bit of air the kid had to have.

Damnit, of course it was upstream. As Casey fought the rushing water, the force pushing him back with every stroke forwards, he caught sight of something white.

There, a foot. Then the kid’s jeans came into view. Stretched out along the bottom, his foot wedged at a weird angle under a stubby, fallen branch.

God! Only the kid could manage to get his Goddamn foot stuck under a log while falling! How in fuck sakes does that happen, anyway?!

Okay, hell. Stop. One boot, two boots along the bottom, he thought. Bend your knees, jump forward. When Casey managed to claw and step up next to him, he tried to keep his mind from noticing the stark difference in front of his eyes. Chuck’s upper body, bare, was ghostly pale and with an utter lack of movement, a terrifying contrast to everything around them. Because from here, at the bottom of the river, the world was brackish-green, seaweed waving like branches caught in the wind, swiftly dancing and turning. Dark to white, movement to stillness, life to –

Shit, shit, shit.

Bending his knees, Casey braced himself, leapt over a sizable rock and log, and with a few strong strokes he was at the kid’s side. Without wasting a second they didn’t have, his hands traversed along Chuck’s body, down his jeans, to his foot.

Damn, it was wedged there, all right. Under a fallen river oak, eighteen inches in diameter. Well, Casey had always heard that men, faced with a life or death situation, found the strength of Hercules.

As it turned out, Hercules was a giant pussy compared to the raw energy that burned through Casey’s muscles. Grabbing and taking hold, Casey ripped the log off the kid as if it were merely an inconvenient twig in the way.

It was enough to free Chuck. Unfortunately, the river, like the bowels of a living, breathing dragon that consumed both of them, thought so, too.

The moment the kid wasn’t bound by the log, he shot down the underwater current. Casey saw a flash of white and pink when it took hold of him. There had to be one last chance to reach him before they both were carried further downstream –

Casey surged, groping violently. Perhaps he would get lucky for once and touch skin. As more water weed swung over his face, he lunged for his arm, or hell, his hair. No time to think about adding insult to injury by using one of his favorite handles the kid happened to have.

While kicking frenziedly to keep up with the kid’s sluggishly twisting body, a puppet caught in a tide, he made a number of savage observations about the stupidity of his brain for thinking other thoughts right then. He shoved forward, trying to reach him before the darkness or moving grasses swallowed him. Tension winding every muscle like a spring, he plunged one final time –

Something cold and firm, slippery, hit his wrist. He swung out, and then the one thing he had to have was in his arms. Encircling Chuck and drawing him into his body, Casey pressed the kid’s arms down to his sides to streamline their ascent. Boots kicking, one arm clinging while the other cut through the water, he reached. He had to bank on the fact there would be a tree or log overhanging the water. Perhaps he could get ahold of a sloping willow branch.

As his face broke water, he flailed with his free hand, too thankful for air and horrified at Chuck’s limp ragdoll body to celebrate. Water rushed around their bodies, but Casey rolled his torso halfway in order to point the kid’s head out of the water. He tried not to think of the way it lolled like a loose sack on his neck.

My God, was he breathing? Had he lost too much blood?

Casey felt the icy, cold chill run over his skin, and it had nothing to do with the water. Coughing and sputtering, he flung a hand in the air, aiming for a spindly branch.

Damn it all, he missed it! They bounced against a rock and headed for a log, the powerful curve of the river carrying them, water slapping their faces and filling his mouth. Never had he felt more like a helpless bug. Even his heart pounded a little faster as he got closer to the bank before a rock steered them away. Chuck’s dead weight might just pull them back under.

Maybe a logical man would know enough to let go and save himself.

Well, to hell with that.

Sliding his arm further down Chuck’s waist, he pushed off from the rock and stroked through the water, ready to grab anything that could hold them. As Chuck’s head flopped back, something seized Casey’s outstretched hand.

Something startling warm and hard, and reassuringly solid.

Another hand.

Choking and gasping, Casey felt fingers digging into his wrist. Sabine’s face appeared to him first, then a vague impression of her other hand latched onto a log for support. He used the leverage to pull their bodies in, momentarily relieved to be rescued.

Relieved, at least, until wiping the creek water and seaweed out of his eyes, he looked down into the deathly white, unbearable still face of his boyfriend.

“Chuck .... Brown Eyes.” Casey swallowed heavily, swiped at the water in his eyes. “You look at me, kid ....”

-x-

“Move it!”

“Ah! What?” Devon had barely recovered from the run-in with the tobacco-toothed gang. Now, out of nowhere, a shout seemed to drill into his eardrum, and he jerked as though a hot wire had run into it. “What are you – Sabine? What’s going on? Where did you come from?”

Devon scrambled to his feet. The cool comfort of the low-branched pine, where he and Morgan sat huddled, was a buffer for the past hour from the dangers that he wanted nothing to do with. Especially the actual gunshots they had heard. But the two men had been ordered to stay hidden in the underbrush, and by God, when a woman with that much ammunition and dead-eye aim was doing the ordering, the good doctored figured it was time to obey. The hour had dragged on for what seemed like eons, broken up only by Morgan’s attempts to alleviate the fear with humor – failure – or the swatting of gnats buzzing their heads.

Not anymore. Hearing her call out, he parted the branches to watch her stalking through the tall grasses while ignoring the briars and gorse bushes catching her brown duster. She came straight for them, rifle bouncing on her back, an expression of mingled anxiety and panic hardening her usually smooth face.

Panic? Sabine doesn’t panic, does she? Immediately, Devon stood taller and set his chin. The fright he saw on her features whipped out to him like a rope. What the heck had happened? Where was Chuck? All this time, waiting, he had been throttling that part of his brain that was beating itself to pieces not to image the worse. It now managed to break through long enough to tell him that however crazy it was to jump to conjectures, he was about to be led to trouble.

“Where are they?” Devon asked, not certain he wanted to hear this. “Sabine -”

“Follow me – now! Stop asking questions!”

“But -”

“This way!” The woman jerked on his arm, and Devon, stupefied by the rush of recent events and the fierce look on her face, obediently began to run at the surprisingly fast pace she set. “Hurry, Doctor.”

“Hey – hey, hang on. What about me?” Morgan scrambled awkwardly to his feet and came up lickety-split alongside them. When Devon darted a look over at him, he saw the smaller man glancing around, trying to understand why they had gone from zero to full bore in less than two seconds. “Why – why are you all wet?” he asked Sabine. To Devon’s amazement, the little guy almost stopped to look up. “I don’t remember a cloudburst.”

“Vous pouvez être un peu idiote , tu sais ça?!” she said with heat on her tone. 

Devon’s French was a little rusty, but he guessed the woman wasn’t complimenting Morgan’s stellar abilities of deduction.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Devon called out, running and knocking branches out of the way.

“It’s Chuck. He’s been hurt,” Sabine said, her voice breaking over the syllables. That was all she needed to say for Devon to pelt though a patch of sweet fern and ivy, picking up speed. Only to almost miss her say, “And then he was pushed in.”

“Oh, fu –”

“But Chuck knows how to swim.” Morgan chased after them.

Sabine shoved Devon to turn right up ahead around a stump. “How well can he swim when he’s been shot and tied up? Head that way.”

“Sh-shot?” Morgan blurted.

She motioned with the tiniest jerk of her head, and Devon heard her breath catch in her throat. It had nothing to do with the footrace. “River’s ahead – turn here.”

“And thrown in the river?” A tangled root vine took hold of Morgan’s foot, throwing him off balance. He stumbled, but immediately kicked it away and scurried after them. “Who in the world would do that to my buddy?!”

“Who do you think?” Sabine hissed back at him. “Stop talking – run!”

Devon’s new companion pushed her way rapidly through a stand of alder, made an abrupt turn around a large tree, and suddenly they were on a path. Overgrown with woody shrubs and zigzagging alongside the river so that it was never visible past the next twenty paces, it was still unmistakably following the rushing creek, leading them to a log bridge Devon could see in the distance underneath the green canopy.

He was winded more from trepidation than from the run, and fear was making his heart beat pell-mell against his chest and tunneling his vision as if looking through a periscope. The urgent sense of duty, finally not to feel useless, had him charging ahead of her. “Where are they, Sabine?” he asked, his eyes skirting the area desperately over a million shades of green. “I don’t see them.”

“At the base of the bridge. They’re lying on the bank. Go!” Sensing he could get there faster without her shorter legs holding them back, Sabine resorted to giving him a shove in that direction. “I don’t think he’s breathing.”

“Now you tell me this?!”

“Would it have made you run faster?” Sabine asked bluntly.

The woman had a point, but Devon was too busy screeching past her like a bullet. “Anything else I should know?”

“Under the river oak.”

“Oh, God, oh, God –” Morgan mumbled as he pushed through the brush behind them. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to stand the sight of my friend ... if he’s ... well – man, I can’t even say it.”

“Morgan,” Devon said over his shoulder. Now he saw them. “There’s a way you can help.”

“There is?”

“Go back to the wagon and get my satchel. Heck, bring the wagon! Up to the edge of Chandler’s farm where we had to cut into the woods. We’ll meet you there. Now, bro!”

“Wait –wait!” Morgan slowed. Taking huge gulps of air, he bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees. “Do you think he’s going to make it?”

“None of that, Morgan,” Devon said with a confidence he didn’t feel. Hell, what he did feel was sick to his stomach. “Listen to me. I need your A Game.”

“Okay ... yeah.” The crunch of Morgan’s boots slowed. “You’re right. What do I do?”

“You won’t be able to drive the wagon through the woods. When you get to the forest, ditch the buggy and bring the black bag under my seat.”

“And bring an extra horse,” Sabine yelled back at him.

“What horse?” Morgan shouted since he was quickly left in the dust.

Sabine growled in annoyance, back pedaled, and whirled him around in the other direction. “Any damn horse you can find!” 

“G-got it,” Morgan said. “Satchel. Horse. Wagon.” The little man dashed off, circling a tree to come out on the other side and hitting a decent stride. Devon could see him ducking past branches and hopping logs as his head vanished into the forest’s shadows. He only hoped the smaller man could keep up the pace without stopping.

Chuck’s life might depend upon it.

God, what did he just think? Devon shot towards the tree Sabine had pointed to, preferring to go through bushes than around them, jumping over a log that nearly sent him face first in the mud.

And he had only a second to register the sight of his tenant – no, his friend – half naked, soaking wet and bleeding, before something made him roll to a stop and put his hands up in the air.

John Casey, who had been crouched over his partner, swung around and suddenly Devon found himself staring down the barrel of a gun for the third time today. Casey’s eyes gradually informed him that it wasn’t another threat, and he lowered the Colt and let out a heavy breath, finally just threw the gun on the ground.

“Get the hell over here ... and tell me what to do now.”

-x-

The last thing on earth Casey expected – besides potentially and looking more likely by the ever-thudding minute, getting his boyfriend killed! – was for Sabine to sprint away the second the men rolled onto the bank. He was still so stunned by watching Liam burst into a pyre of flames and then reduced to ashes, watching the kid go tumbling helplessly off the side of the bridge that he could barely draw in a breath without the fear he would hear himself choke it off.

John Casey did not choke. Not in any Goddamn situation, and certainly not now.

Son of a bitch! Where the fuck did she go?

Casey couldn’t be bothered any longer by her mysterious departure. He immediately drew his attention down to Chuck’s pale face and floppy, wet hair. It stuck up in places where it wasn’t plastered to his head. Hunched over him, Casey put a hand on his bare chest, to the left, below his pec. A heartbeat was there, faint, but Casey nearly became dizzy with relief. He bent an ear to his lover’s mouth, listening for a shallow inhalation that wasn’t coming. 

“God, kid ....” Breathe, breathe for me. “Can you hear me?”

Seizing his jaw in one hand, the touch of bare, cold skin sent a shot of dread up Casey’s arm. Instincts had him give the kid a little shake, like a lot of good that would do.

“Chuck, Chuck .... Come on ..!” A rapid assessment, desperate as it was, had established his heart was working, no other damage from the rocks below, and not in immediate danger of bleeding to death. Or at least Casey hoped to hell was the case, since he had seen men bleed out to death if an artery was severed.

“Chuck – if you can hear me ....” Placing a few fingers on his throat, he thought he could feel a pulse in the icy neck, but honestly he wasn’t certain anymore. His blue eyes skittered over Chuck’s face in a frenetic search for any sign he could hear him. There was not even a twitch from the kid, or a flutter of an eyelash.

Casey pushed aside a clump of wet hair stuck to his forehead, and anxiously examined him as best he could ... without the saturated jeans and wet sticky, blood oozing from the hole at Chuck’s upper thigh screaming to distract him.

Got to breathe first, pancake.

There was more water blurring Casey’s lower lashes, heavy. He stared at him a moment, waiting for movement, not wanting to blink and let the river water run down his cheeks.

“Come on, Come on,” Casey grit out urgently. With considerable effort, he pushed away the thought of how Chuck’s body seemed corpselike on the grass. Instead, he put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder and surprisingly struggled to pull him on his side. Unconsciousness and being soaked seemed to have tripled his weight. “This way, just like that, kid ... now breathe, Goddammit.”

Idiot. Yeah, cursing at him. That was going to help.

“Jesus, okay.” Casey surveyed the kid’s lean back for any other injuries. Just the bruises, but he hated himself for the word ‘just’. Shaking it off, he pounded the center of his spine, palm flat. “Move ... or make a noise if you can hear me, kid,” he said, pausing between two good whacks to lean over him. “Christ, please ....”

He can’t be dead, not after all of this.

Do something! Casey reached around and shoved a few fingers in the kid’s mouth. He had once witnessed a man choking on his own tongue. Still nothing. Now what?

Casey slammed him again. “Chuck! Look at me.” His other hand slid through slick, wet curls and cupped, holding his head off the ground. “Now ... I mean it.”

Fuck you, Liam, for this. 

And while I’m at it, screw you, God! Why don’t you throw in a miracle if you had to pick this man to drown? Isn’t that what You’re known for? Like a fucking gimmick of Yours? Locusts and burning bushes? Or was that all just a bullshit show to prove to the mortals every now and again that You’re Big Man in Charge when humankind needs a good slap upside the head?

Casey drew in a deep breath and prayed for detachment. Finding it was never a problem before, not until Chuck barged into his life. Keep going, keep going, he repeated, attempting to lose himself in the concentration of the job, directing all of his awareness down his arm to his fingertips.

“Chuck, now you listen to me ....” Casey growled under his breath. Whack. “I ... I can bear a helluva lot of pain myself, but I can’t bear yours. Understand?” Whack. Leaning over the kid, he whispered against his ear, “That would take more strength than I’ll ever have. I always thought I needed enough for both of us ... but you’re the one who has it .... Now breathe!”

Chuck’s face was turned away from him, but he could see the jaw muscles suddenly bunch as he first clenched his teeth hard before his lips parted. A trickle of a water trailed out the corner of his mouth. When Casey landed another blow to his back, he heard it. A rattling wet cough and strangled noises. Water spewed onto the grass. Under his hands, Casey could feel the spasms along the kid’s back.

“That’s it, Chuck, come on,” Casey said, hearing a choke in his own voice. He felt himself ridiculously close to having that damn creek water spill over his cheeks, so he swallowed, fighting for control. “It’s gonna be okay now ....” 

Casey placed a hand on Chuck’s head, brushed his hair back, fought to inspect his face as he tried to ignore a large bruise over the cheekbone. Though his eyes were still closed, the wracking coughs continued, and Casey felt a swell of relief at each one.

“You never give up, kid, do you?” he growled roughly, and now that damn creek water did run down his face.

-x-

“Get the hell over here ... and tell me what to do now.”

Wasting a few precious seconds to gape at the sight of his friend’s bruised body and bloody leg, the doctor sank down on his haunches next to Chuck. “Is he breathing?”

“Barely,” Casey said quietly, and he tipped his head towards the rushing creek where a minute ago Casey wasn’t even sure he’d ever get out. His hand dug into Chuck’s shoulder. One, to hold him, two, the last thing the doctor would see were his hands shaking. “He was under the water for a solid minute. I tried to make him cough it up ... don’t know if it worked ... enough to help him.” 

“If he’s breathing, Casey, it was.” Devon shot him a swift, boosting smile though it wasn’t endowed with the same poise of the doctor from yesterday. Still, with all the authority learned at a patient’s side, he then mustered up his professional bearing enough to move. “Put him on his back. I need to examine him.”

“Kid, if you can hear me, open your eyes.” Using the hold on Chuck’s shoulder, Casey gently rolled him over. “This ... isn’t going to hurt.” Nothing compared to what you’ve been through.

“Hey, Chuckster, it’s me,” Devon said. Waiting only long enough for Casey to let go, the doctor checked his pulse and ran his hands down Chuck’s torso to his legs, examining the kid’s body. Immediately, his hands came back drenched in crimson. “My God. Why is there so much blood?”

“He was shot, okay? Do something.” 

“But - I’ve never dealt with this!”

“... the hell?” Casey asked automatically.

Devon gave him a pained look. “I’m a country doctor, John. Births and fevers ... and quiet deaths. Not gunshots ..!”

“Yeah? Well, welcome to the dark side, buttercup! Now pull your head out and tell me what we need to do!”

“But – how did this ..?”

“That devil of a bastard shot him.” Sabine’s words were spoken through stiff lips. “I saw him do it.”

A muscle flexed in Casey’s jaw. Both men looked up to see her approach in the same direction the doctor had arrived. It explained where she had disappeared to, at least, since fetching the doctor might just save the kid.

Might? Don’t think like that, asshole.

“Liam did this?” Devon’s head shot up for a moment, and he blinked a few times. “Where is he?”

“Hell,” Casey answered.

“Oh, man.” Devon shook his head, dumbstruck, but got back to work. When he had finished checking the kid’s heart, he placed his index finger on Chuck’s eyelid and gingerly tugged it open. “His pupil reacted. That’s a good sign, Casey. You can help stop the bleeding by applying pressure. Yes, right there. Like that.” The doctor cleared his throat. “How ... did it happen? Liam, I mean. You said he’s ... dead?”

Casey pressed his palm over Chuck’s upper thigh, watching as blood continued to ooze between his fingers. Without answering the doctor, he lifted his head and looked at Chuck instead. How? He went up like a pile of dried buffalo dung. Oh, and it was your roommate here who did the honors.

If there was any living being who looked less likely to be able to pull that off in his woeful condition, Casey would love to meet the man. He focused on the kid’s long lashes, his plain, angular face now scruffy with a few days of stubble but still smooth with the boyish, almost-handsome face that made him Chuck. Purple bruises across his cheeks and small cuts couldn’t cover something Casey would call ... well, cute. If he ever used a girly word like that.

Maybe as cute as somebody could be with the ability to incinerate flesh. How would he ever find a logical explanation after seeing his seemingly sweet boyfriend turn a man into a pile of ashes?

For the time being, Casey took the ‘stay calm’ route and simply shrugged. “How? Let’s just say Liam lit the wrong match.”

“The wrong ... match?” Devon’s eyes darted around the thick forest as if he didn’t believe it, but he hastily returned focus to his patient. Placing his hands one on top of the other under the kid’s rib cage, he began a series of short thrusts. “Chest compressions,” he explained, maybe noticing Casey’s skeptical look.

“What the hell is that?” Casey asked, instantly feeling helpless and idiotic, because, well chest compressions should be self-explanatory.

“If there’s anything else blocking his windpipe, we’ll get it. In the meantime, you can help.”

“How?” Sabine asked. Sensing it was safe to intervene, she got down on her haunches next to them and instinctively brushed a few curls from the kid’s forehead. Her face sank when he didn’t move or give them a flash of those brown eyes. “Tell me.”

“The pressure on the ... bullet hole isn’t helping.” It was obvious Devon didn’t want to admit that. “Sorry, John, but we need to get the flow from the artery tied off for now. I need something we can use as a bandage. Is there anything you can pull together for me?”

Before Sabine could answer, Casey pointed his chin towards the base of the bridge. “There’ll be a shirt and pants in that satchel over there. Just tear them up. The previous owner isn’t going to need them any longer.” Heh. Look at you, Bryce Larkin. Finally being useful.

“Good.” Devon nodded. “At least it will be something to staunch this until we can get Chuck back ....”

While Sabine sprang up to fetch the satchel, Casey slanted a look over at Devon. “Where are we taking him?” 

“Back to my house, of course,” Devon said as he continued the compressions. Casey watched as the kid’s chest jerked at every thrust. Creek water began to dribble again from the corner of his lips. “Come on, Chuck. I know you have more – I can hear it ... dammit.”

Casey peered down at his boyfriend’s slack face. His heart jumped into his throat, butterflies exploding in his stomach. He made himself remain calm when he wanted to scoop the kid up and order him to fill his lungs with air. Not one of those wet shallow noises that barely did a thing. “What about a hospital?”

“There’s no hospital in the county.” Devon looked down, his gaze sweeping over his patient. “And ... to be honest, Casey, I’m not certain he can withstand the trip. Besides, all of my supplies are there. If – ah, I mean when we get him there, he’ll be in good hands. I promise, bro.”

There was a pause as Casey considered what else would be waiting. Or more specifically, whom. A brunette, hazel-eyed, mother bear whom. Something told him the protective big sister wasn’t going to see his side of the story when the past twenty-four hours unfolded for her benefit. Just the thought made him need to squelch the urge to offer up his hotel room. But hell, the doctor was right. The kid was far from out of the woods, and there was no other place safer.

That comfort didn’t stop him from wondering if Devon kept guns in the house and if Ellie Bartowski knew anything about using them. Most doctors might find the act of violence repulsive, but he had a niggling worry that the she-bear tendencies might trump pacifism in this case. When she laid eyes on the man whom she first believed defiled her baby brother – move along, little doggie, that’s not how it happened. Not exactly, anyway – and then got him shot, she might just be overly tempted to pull the trigger and sort out the sordid details while burying his dead body in the doctor’s turnip patch –

The sinister picture of the woman, a shovel, and his corpse was erased by the coughing and gushing fit coming from the kid. “That’s it – c’mon, Chuck. Almost there ....” Devon whispered. “A few more like that, okay?”

Surely enough, the kid listened for once. Water spewed more violently than the trickle Casey had worked from him. The spray hit the doctor’s shirt and face in slowly diminishing spurts from Chuck’s mouth, but Devon only smiled bravely and kept going. “Yeah, Chuckster, do it again.”

Casey used his thumb to briskly wipe away the streams around his mouth. “Hear that?” he said, then running a thumb over his cheek. “Come on, Chuck ... gonna be okay ....”

“Here, Casey,” Sabine said, flinging a once-crisp white shirt at him. “Take this – or better yet, move out of the way. You’re in no condition to do this.”

“What?” Casey looked down at himself. Besides being soaked to the skin, being in no condition was news to him. Glancing over at Sabine, he saw her cock an eyebrow down at his hands a second before Casey could make a fist. Maybe they had been shaking, but the water was fucking cold. “I can do it.”

“Out of my way.” Sabine elbowed him in that way women had when they were taking control and wouldn’t tolerate the back talk. The shirt flew around the kid’s leg before Casey could move. Tying it off, she motioned to the vest she had tossed on the grass. “Do you think you can rip it in half?”

Casey narrowed his eyes at her. Great. Since when was he the almost-useless-dick-whipped-panicky boyfriend in this scenario, anyway?

Chuck’s next round of coughing answered that question. Apparently, now. With a deep breath for courage, he picked up the vest and tore it in half. He sat still for a moment, holding it out to Sabine and staring down at the kid’s gaunt face, muscles tightening across his features.

“Not done yet, are you Bartowski,” Casey bent down to murmur against his ear. “Wake up, kid. You wanna fly that thing someday, don’t you?”

There was a faint moan and Chuck actually stirred his good leg. Devon sat back on the grass and ran a hand through his hair, taking a second to gather his wits. Casey hesitated – damn, he hated public shows – but it tore him up to recall Chuck’s eyes, his smile, and he knew it was his job to help gently coax him awake if he ever wanted to see those things again. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna keep fighting, aren’t you, pancake,” Casey went on, low. He caressed his cheek in the way he knew so well, tracing his jaw bone from under his ear to his chin, avoiding the bruises. The kid’s muscles tightened while one of Casey’s hands moved back and forth, then down to his chest, stroking lightly. Leaning in and not giving a shit what the audience thought by now, he breathed against the kid’s bruised throat. “That’s it ... you can wake up now.”

The silence, save for the branches shushing overhead, brought disquieting thoughts. Leaves fluttered in the breeze, making light and shadows dance and waver over the kid’s face. Chuck still wasn’t listening to that order.

“I can take over,” Devon said quietly to Sabine, inspecting her work before raising a curious brow at her. “Though it looks like you’ve dressed a wound before.”

“I have, but I’ll let you tie off the next one. There’s a pair of pants in there.” Sabine flapped a hand at the satchel. “Get ripping.”

Devon reached over Chuck, dug around, and found his hand cautiously riffling through stacks of bills. “Oh, my God .... Where did all of this come from?”

Casey rolled his eyes at the drop-jawed expression. “Long story. No time.”

“Pants,” Sabine ordered without looking over.

“Oh, sorry.” Devon blinked and hauled out the black wool trousers, giving them the once over before starting to shred them into bandages. “Hey, these are the clothes you made Bryce change out of when he pretended to be you.”

“Yeah,” Casey said, hoping that would be the end of it. “Pass me that piece.”

Devon appeared understandably bewildered. “Where is he?”

Casey glanced down at Chuck. Blood permeated the top layer of cloth. He looked over at the doctor critically as though judging his capacity to do his job without the insignificant matter of a snake as cold as a wagon tire to distract him. “Who?” Casey asked, deciding not to risk it.

“Um, Bryce,” Devon said. The smile was nervous, eyes diverting around the clearing. Christ, he was really searching for him. “You know. Six feet tall, blue eyes? I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the rather good-looking guy -”

“-Traitor.”

“- who was working with us. Wait. What?” 

Casey gritted his teeth as he helped Sabine tie off the knot. “The traitor who tried to sell Chuck out to his daddy?”

“He tried to pull that again?” 

“Or the ass hat who managed to escape with Chuck yesterday – and instead of bringing him to me, brought Chuck’s dad to us?”

“Bad decision on his part, I know.”

“Or maybe you mean the piece of shit who tried to convince him to go to his hotel room for one last fling so that his dad could shuffle him back to Boston.”

“Wow, bro .... Did he really do that?”

Casey made one of the more guttural noises in his arsenal. Affirmative. Maybe the doctor would get the hint that the conversation was over. 

“So ... where is he?” Devon asked.

Or maybe not.

“Simple.” Casey’s cold blue eyes lifted to meet Devon’s, and after one more long riiiippp that felt gratifying as hell, he then busied himself by setting more cloth next to Sabine. “His head got in the way of a bullet,” Casey finished.

“Wh-what?”

Casey lifted a meaty shoulder. “It happens.”

“Hap –” Devon stopped talking but his jaw was working. Finally, “Bryce is – he’s ..?”

“Dead. Hand me the next piece if there’s one there, will you?”

“But -!”

“Here,” Sabine said, taking the last strip of cloth from Casey. “That’s all we have. We need to move him now. Get back into town.” Her large eyes turned knowingly to the younger man, and she asked carefully, “Do you agree, Doctor?”

Casey had to admire her tactic. Get him to refocus on his duty and not on a piece of buzzard meat.

Devon shook his head numbly like a man rousing himself from sleep and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Too stunned to argue, his gaze traveled from Casey down to Chuck, surveying his lanky, unconscious friend. “Uh, yes. Yes, that’s ... what we need to do.”

“Good.” Sabine waved a hand to indicate the dismissal of that topic. She took a deep breath and angled around, frowning at the amount of blood still seeping. “Johnnie?”

Casey had been scrubbing softly at the kid’s cheek, waiting for those eyes to open. “Yeah?”

“Might want to untie him.”

“Ah, shit.” Casey groaned at his own stupidity and in a hurry began working on the ropes. The deep cuts, ringed with bracelets of dried blood, made him sick all over again. Completely pissed that he hadn’t done it sooner, he slowly unraveled the bindings as tenderly as he could, noticing in a sort of numbed fascination that one of the kid’s hands was clenched in a loose fist.

“Strange .... Look. He’s holding something.” Sabine squinted. “What is it?”

Casey reached down and took his hand. The kid’s fingers were even colder than Casey’s, and as Casey pulled back each one, a flash of gold fell into his palm.

“Gotta be kidding.” Looking down, Casey could see the familiar casing, the family name etched into it, those thin yellow links dangling from a broken clasp. Drops of water spilled out as he opened it.

“That’s your pocket watch,” Sabine said, her voice quietly incredulous. “How ... how did he get it?”

Casey bit down on his bottom lip until he thought it would bleed, twisting the watch between his fingers. When he looked down at the kid’s pale face, the creek water was back, damnit. “Liam had it,” Casey answered, doing everything to keep his voice steady. “It must’ve fallen in after him. The kid had to have grabbed it before the current swept it away.”

A hand rested on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. “Johnnie ....”

The soft sputtering noises from Chuck ceased, and the lean, long body went limp. “What the hell? Why is he not talking?” Never knew he’d say that about the kid. Pulling up his angular chin and pressing his fingertips hard into the flesh under the angle of the jaw, Casey waited for Chuck to open his eyes. “C’mon, kid ....”

“Easy ... easy, John.” Devon leaned over him and felt for a pulse on one wrist.

Chuck’s body lay prone with arms stretched at his side, a mile of pale skin and bruises. The sight made Casey want to kill Liam all over again if his boyfriend hadn’t already somehow taken care of that task.

“Morgan should be here soon with a horse,” Devon said a little steadier. At Casey’s questioning look, he explained, “Then we can meet up with the buggy. He’s bringing it as close as he can get to the edge of the woods.”

Casey left one big palm on Chuck’s ribcage, stroked him from shoulder to waist, passing his fingers along the bump of each rib, the straight line of his body. The reaction he prayed for never came, so he tousled a few curls and pulled his hand back. “How long will it take the little moron?”

“If I had to guess, it’s about a four mile hike from where we started in the woods back to Purvis Chapel Road.”

“Hm?”

“That’s where we left my buggy.”

“Four miles?” God! He looked down at Chuck, and he hurt. “Okay, that does it, then,” Casey announced. “Let’s go. We’re going to meet the dwarf halfway. We don’t have that much time to waste.”

“What are you going to do?” Sabine asked. “Wait, you’re going to carry him? Are you sure?”

Casey rolled his eyes. Like he needed to be reminded of the risk? As gently as he could, he bent over Chuck, adjusted his long frame, and scooped him up in his arms. It proved how out of it the kid truly was since normally he protested vehemently when Casey took matters into his own hands. But there wasn’t even a twitch or weak struggle, just a pile of gangly legs and loose arms in his.

“It’s a long way to carry a man,” Devon said.

“I’ve got this. Get the satchels.” Casey pointed with his chin. “The other one is under the willow at the edge of the bank.”

Devon looked Casey over warily and nodded. “Let me know if you get tired. I can help.”

Casey held him closely, the kid’s head snuggled under his chin, and he couldn’t help feeling reassured by the slender torso against him. “Nah. He’s lost a hell of a lot of weight,” Casey muttered. “Let’s go.”

Though it was true, the honest answer was now that he had him again, he had no intention of letting go.

-x-

Sabine plopped down in a stiff, upholstered rocking chair, an eyesore of tan paisley swirls on the fabric that reminded Casey of tiny skunk tails. “Johnnie, maybe you should sit down.”

“I’d rather walk,” Casey replied, rolling the brim of his hat in his hands. He continued with his turning and pacing, three steps to one wall, stomping around in a fling of a blood-soaked shirt, and three steps back. “What the fuck is taking them so long?”

“You’re going to wear out the doctor’s fine carpet with your boots.”

“Then they should get down here and let me go up and see him.”

Sabine heaved a sigh. “You should eat something.”

“Left my appetite back there.” Casey spoke as he paced, pausing to run a hand through his hair as he turned. “Not hungry.”

“Then at least sit down,” she suggested.

“Not tired.” Casey stopped only long enough to press his fingertips against his eyelids. The doctor’s downstairs front parlor had to be the most insufferable, minuscule room in the entire house. No, the entire town of Beaufort didn’t have another room less inviting than the ten by ten quasi jail cell taken up by an enormous oak secretary desk with its neatly packed books, a brick fireplace, and woefully uncomfortable settee. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Didn’t you just – ah, hell, never mind.” Sabine leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “Morgan’s tending to the horses, but I expect it’s only a matter of minutes before he’ll be barging in here. What are you going to tell him?”

“That I’ll kill him if he doesn’t shut the hell up,” Casey promised. At the next turn, he glared at the glass-domed clock on the mantle. The rotating pendulum was bugging the piss out of him. Why did it have to be so loud?

“Your delivery may need work.” She tilted her head to contemplate him, light brown curls falling over her shoulders. “Not to mention the message itself. Maybe less threat of death?”

“Eh.”

“That’s a maybe, I suppose,” Sabine observed. Leaning forward she placed her elbows on her knees, evaluating his bedraggled state. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah, how?”

“The sister – Ellie – she could’ve been awake when we arrived.”

“Well, she’s awake now, I reckon. Did the little moron have to announce us like the coming of the Black Plague riding in with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse with flames shooting out of our asses?”

“He’s worried.” She turned her face towards the fire, the light of the dying flames casting her face in a dappled glow. “I’ll wager he’s not the only one.”

Without a better answer, Casey growled out in frustration. “They should be down here. How long does doctoring take, anyway?”

“Did Ellie speak to you?”

From the way that came out, they both knew the big sister was going to have more to say once she hovered over her baby brother for a while. The woman had told him she was a doctor – a female physician! – so no telling how much she was sticking her nose in the way up there.

“No.” That was an understatement. A half hour ago, the kid’s big sister had purposely avoided even looking at him when Casey carried Chuck up the stairs and deposited him on the bed. “Add near death to the crimes against her brother, I suppose,” Casey mumbled. “Probably thinks I met him by getting him drunk in a saloon, performed some miracle of lewd persuasion, and seduced him up into my hotel room to pop his cherry.”

“Is that how it - it was a hayloft, wasn’t it?”

“Comedian, you know that?” Casey turned his broad back to her and added in a low grumble, “And it was a workshop. Not a damn hayloft.”

Sabine chuckled softly. “Just trying to get you to relax and sit down. I’ve never seen you so ....” She briefly rolled the words around in her head, lowered her voice to admit, “Desperately, foolishly in love with someone.”

“Yeah? And you’re just doing a helluva job making me relax. Gold star in my book.”

“Someone has to say it, oui?”

“Just ‘cause I’m here doesn’t mean I’ve gone all pussified.”

“Oh, Johnnie.” Her laughter bubbled up again, almost covering the nervous edge in her voice. “That’s what love is, you big, stubborn dumbass. Look at you. Everything. Being willing to bend a little –”

“Not the one doing the bending, sister.”

“What? Oh, oh, right.” She politely cleared her throat. “How about letting go of what you’ve been trying too hard to hang onto? This isn’t the man I met with iron in his soul. The man I met in St. Louis.”

“He’s still me.”

“No, he’s not, Johnnie. Get over it,” she told him. “That kid up there changed you. I saw the way he smiled when he spoke of you. The way you look at him.” She reached out and took hold of his hand as he tried to turn. “I like this better.”

“Like hell,” Casey muttered, pulling his hand away. With the timing of the devil, the braided rug got under his boot, caught a toe. He took hold of one edge of the desk and stopped himself, but just. “Maybe I should go up and see what’s going on.”

“You were ordered by the doctor – or both doctors, I should say – to stay put until they said so.”

“Puh.” Casey put his thumbs on his holster and resumed his pacing. “No use for damn orders.”

“Uh-huh.” Sabine sank back in the chair and arched a brow at him. “Well, usually, you’re quite fond of them, but then again, you’re always the person doling them out.”

“Yeah, here’s one –” But Casey was interrupted in his theory of what she could do with her witty monologue by the entrance of a very exhausted Doctor Woodcomb.

“I was able to get the bullet and stitch up the entrance wound.” Devon stepped over by the fire and picked up a china coffee pot on a side table that Sabine had wrangled from the kitchen. Pouring himself a cup, he took a gulp and looked them over with a careful gaze, assessing the twitch in Casey’s cheek and the faint glaze of bone-weariness over their eyeballs. The attempt at a bolstering smile faded. “That’s the ... good news, I guess.”

“What ... does that mean?” Casey asked. He slid his hands in his front pockets and deliberately sauntered up in front of the doctor, needing to look directly into his eyes. “I want to talk to him.”

“You can’t,” Devon said.

“Why not?” Rising from the chair, Sabine crossed the room and stood shoulder to shoulder with Casey. “What are you not telling us?”

Devon exchanged a look with each of them and let out a sigh. He was silent for a long time, once or twice tilting the cup in his fingers as it caught the firelight.

“Well ....” The doctor set the cup down carefully as if it might crack, making Casey want to pick him up by the shirtfront and shake him. “He’s hasn’t gained consciousness, Casey. He’s burning with fever now. He won’t wake up.”

“But – you have stopped the bleeding?” Sabine asked, folding her fingers around Casey’s wrist. To hold him back, no doubt, from heading up the stairs.

“Yes, but ... he lost a lot of blood today.” Devon bent his head, scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck while he carefully chose his words. The creases in his forehead deepened in tangible apprehension.

“Say it,” Casey ordered.

“It’s not going well, okay?” He stared at Casey for quite a long time, now and then glancing over at Sabine or the last flickering flames in the hearth. “At this point ... we’ve done everything we can – trust me, John, we have – but now we just have to wait ... and see if it was enough.”

“I want to see him,” Casey said, trying to release himself from Sabine’s surprisingly strong grip. “I’m going up to his room.”

“No.”

The abrupt answer made both men and Sabine turn towards the doorway. Suddenly a shadow fell from the hallway that led to the stairs. They saw Ellie at the threshold, clutching a blanket to the ivory lace at her collar. As she entered the room, her grey skirt swishing over the rug was the only sound to break the eerie silence. Ellie didn’t break stride until she stood in front of Casey, and he found himself staring into a pair of sharp hazel eyes. They were from the same mold, but not warm like the kid’s. “I forbid it.”

“Strong words for a little lady who only reaches up to my neck,” Casey said in a level voice, purposely looming. 

“Oh? Maybe this will reach you, then,” Ellie said, and Casey was rewarded at once with a slap across his face. “Bastard.”

He shut his mouth grimly and turned his head away rather than be tempted into any more arguments with the hot-tempered, overprotective she-bitch of a sister. His cheek burned and his eyes watered, but he had taken hits from both women and smooth-faced, eager young men, so Casey shook it off with a shrug.

“I want you to leave now, Mr. Casey, and return to the hole you came from.”

Casey looked down, breathing heavily. The fingers were digging into his forearm now, though he had no intention of hitting a woman or anyone else. Barreling past her, maybe, but only that. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “Not without him.”

The hand that had been clutching the blanket balled up into a fist. “You did this to him,” Ellie said in no more than a whisper, and the accusation hit its mark. It went straight to his heart like a dagger. “Don’t kid yourself. Every bit of this is your fault. My brother never would’ve found this kind of trouble –” and she held up her free hand to let him know not to interrupt - “He was – is - always a good man, a brilliant student. Now – look at him! Barely – barely alive!” Her voice broke. “He’s dodging bullets, getting kidnapped, shot at by -”

“Ellie,” Devon cut in, flashing teeth as if she would be easily placated by a courageous smile, “maybe we should have this conversation tomorrow after we all have a chance to -”

“No.” Ellie swallowed and turned her face stubbornly up to Casey. Her eyes were bright with tears. “As soon as my brother can be moved, he’s coming home with me. Back to Boston where he belongs. And as far away from Mr. Casey as I can take him.”

Casey shook his head. “I didn’t come this far to abandon him.”

“Abandoning him would be the least of what you’ve done to hurt my brother,” Ellie said, not mentioning getting him shot but by God, she was thinking it. “I’m his sister, his real family, and I’m going to make sure you’ll never get the chance to hurt him again.” 

x-End Chapter Nineteen Where the Road Ends-x-


	20. Chapter Twenty

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty

-x-

For the umpteenth time in less than ten minutes, Casey’s hand came up to rub his jaw. No surprise that it was still tender. He bit his lip to hold back a muttered curse. What emerged was a low-pitched growl, barely audible except to the woman leaning her hip against the flying machine’s wing, arms crossed and eyeing him cautiously.

“Are you sure I can’t get you a cold cloth for that?” Sabine tapped her own cheek and then pointed at his to erase any doubt about what she meant – yeah, like he needed that to happen – and Casey swore one corner of her mouth curled upward. “It looks ... well, a little painful.”

“It’s fine.” Casey turned away with a grunt, which did nothing to make him feel slightly vindicated after being cold-cocked by a hundred and ten pound dame.

“Glad we had this discussion,” Sabine said. “But it’s pink. It doesn’t look fine.”

“I’ve been slugged by jealous boyfriends three times her size.”

“All right. Sorry I interrupted your pacing and moping.”

Casey scowled and went back to sure-as-hell-not moping as he walked along the side of the plane. The fact that the kid’s sister measured Chuck’s misery in the minutes and days he spent with a certain outlaw still sat in the back of his mind like a lump of lead that may never dislodge itself. His hope was that Chuck could still see deeper than that. From the beginning, he seemed to see him in layers, under the worn leather and scent of gunpowder, just as he made sense of his own life. The kid saw the world as it was, all its misery and pain, and all the dreams that somehow rose above it. Chuck accepted all of it. He accepted him.

But did Ellie’s argument have any truth behind it? Was his involvement with Chuck a disaster?

Would it be best for the kid if he just packed up and cut dirt?

Slipping out of the picture when feelings got messy always seemed to work before.

Sabine pushed off from the bench and threw a blue shawl around her shoulders. The air had finally chilled, a fact he hadn’t notice but women seemed to be attuned to it. “Johnnie, there’s something endlessly fascinating in watching you deal with human imperfection,” she said.

One of the kid’s nicked-up wood-handled chisels had worked its way into his fingers somehow. Casey shook his head and tossed it down. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He saw that the kerosene lantern on Chuck’s meticulously organized workbench emitted a glow across her face, showed him how shrewdly Sabine was watching him. “It makes sense. You had to wait for that feeling with the man you’ll love forever.”

“Feel – fuck, I can’t even repeat it,” Casey said grumpily. Now he picked up a screwdriver and began to twist it in his hand. “Don’t you have someone else to bug the piss out of for a while?”

“Okay, so let’s try this again.” Studying the tilt of his face, Sabine strolled in and rested a hand on the tail section, taking a second to drink in how perfectly smooth and balanced it was. “He’s made you question yourself. Maybe realize ... you’re going to have to accept your flaws – since he obviously has. It’s called being human ... and being in love. Have faith. Have faith in the doctors, in the kid.” She stepped out in front of him, making him really look at her. “And in yourself.”

“I’m not –”

“You’re beating yourself up,” she said. “Well, no worries, Johnnie. That kid will be doing it soon enough for the stunt you pulled.”

“Got our asses out of there, didn’t we?” Hell, that was still up in the air. The kid was still unresponsive unless a miracle had happened in the past half hour.

“Before anyone comes in, answer something for me.” Sabine suddenly put a hand on his arm. “What – what did I see today?”

This was the question Casey knew was coming. He pushed his fingertips against his closed eyelids, trying to search for an appropriate answer that lacked a sprinkling of crazy dust. None of it made a lick of goddamn sense. “Let’s just say my boyfriend knows how to liven up a party with a few parlor tricks. Really has the hots for showing off.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know. Tricks. Wait until you get some liquor in him. Then fireworks shoot out of his ass. Rainbow of colors, too. Humph. Mighty pretty.” He lifted a shoulder. “Who knew he had secret talents, eh?”

Sabine stared at him a long moment. “Sorry, Johnnie. That isn’t going to work.”

“Well, it’ll have to, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “Even me?”

Casey took a moment to run a hand over the back of his neck. He couldn’t even begin to try. The logic wasn’t there. “Yes, even you.”

Sabine bit down on her lip for a second or two. “Forget I said anything.”

“Already have.”

“God, you’re incorrigible.” Sabine stalked over to the workbench to pick up the dinner plate she had smuggled out to the workshop for him. “No appetite?”

Casey made a noise in his throat and went back to pacing along the flying machine, almost knocking a wing since the damn thing took up nearly all the floor space in the workshop.

“Okay, listen to me,” Sabine said when he crossed in front of her. “This isn’t your fault – ah, no, close your mouth, I’m not done,” she added quickly when Casey looked prepared to fling a retort. “That kid of yours was in Liam’s crosshairs the minute your boss found out he could get leverage over the father for the land deal in Colorado. And his father wanted to get his hands on that … the ... book of well, Chinese fireworks or whatever it was the kid had taken. Those things had nothing to do with you.”

“Hell of a lot of good it does him now,” Casey admitted under his breath.

“Casey, you saved him. If it wasn’t for you, Liam would’ve been able to make the trade he had planned to up in Carson City when he kidnapped him off the farm! Yes, he told me all about it, so don’t look at me like that. Maybe you noticed it, but that kid of yours likes to talk when he trusts someone, and we happened to have some time to burn in St. Louis.”

“On the bright side,” Casey said, “at least you pumped him for information instead of putting him to work for you.”

“Tempting … he is beautiful in a quirky way, but I heard he has a jealous boyfriend, so I decided not to risk it.”

Casey snorted and picked up his pacing.

Sabine became serious again. “We both know his father would’ve signed over the land deal to get his claws in his son, and he’d have that thing you call the Cipher – and Chuck.”

“Yeah?” Casey took one look at her and rolled his eyes. “Try putting that spin on it with the bit –”

“Careful, Johnnie,” Sabine interrupted, arching an accusatory brow at him.

“Eh.” Casey gritted his teeth together, wincing at the way women stuck together. “Mad-cat, overprotective, insane big sister in there,” he finished with a terse nod towards the house.

“What’s a mad-cat?” a voice asked. They both swung around to see the dwarf standing just inside the doorway of the workshop and chewing on a chicken leg. At least the bearded idiot had the sense to back up a step after interpreting the look Casey shot at him. “Easy, big guy. It just sounds ferocious, that’s all.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Casey asked. “Kiowa, maybe?”

“Hey ... hey, John ... buddy.” Since it was pitch black outside, Devon emerged from the darkness and appeared in the doorway, standing shoulder to head with the smaller man. Obviously, he had washed up and changed his clothes, his trousers and vest making him look more dapper than any of them put together. “Thought we’d find you hiding out in here.”

“I was just telling the big guy he could be nicer to me,” Morgan said, gnawing away at the meat. When the others just looked at him, he held up the chicken leg in slingshot style, pretended to let loose a shot, and then proudly brushed his fingertips over his vest. “You know. Zing ba da bing? Considering I saved his life and all?”

“Slingshot.” Casey muttered a few choice words under his breath.

“That’s Casey-speak for ‘thank you’,” Sabine explained, nudging him.

“Seriously? Because it sounded like –”

“Slightly gruff. I know.” Sabine didn’t sound offended, just resigned. “Get used to it. This somewhat surly, hard ass version of Johnnie is what we’re stuck with until we get some better news, so that will have to suffice, I’m afraid.”

“As opposed to what other version exactly?” Morgan asked, stepping forward to get a better look at the looming man. “Because I have to say, this is the ‘cuddly’ version I’m pretty well accustomed to. I wonder how my best buddy has managed to get through that rock-hard outer coating to the spongy stuff below. Hm?” He raised both hands defensively. “Oh, c’mon, man. You all had to think it!”

The death glare Casey pointed at him could outshine the workshop’s lantern. “If we’re done playing patty-cake, do you think we can shut up and let the doctor talk?” After a moment, he loosened his scowl, pushed on Morgan’s forehead to shove him aside, and walked right up to Devon. “How is he?”

The last thing Casey wanted to see was the slight shift in Woodcomb’s eyes, down and to the side. Nothing good ever came from a doctor having to search for the right words, and Casey prepared himself for the bit of sunshine the man was getting ready to blow up his ass.

“Well, the good news is that the bleeding has stopped.” Devon gave him a bolstering smile, but Casey noticed it wasn’t endowed with the usual confidence. “And I was able to retrieve the bullet. Just the one, luckily.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Casey said with some sarcasm slipping out. “What else?”

Devon thought about it before he frowned. “It, ah, penetrated the femoral artery. Oh, that’s here,” and he pointed down to the front of his upper thigh. “It’s the main arterial supply to the lower limb. You see, the external iliac –”

“Christ,” Casey groaned. He remembered why he hated doctors, and let him know by pinching the bridge of his nose until he shut up. “And what the hell is the bad news?”

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy, buddy.” Devon patted his shoulder until he belatedly remembered Casey’s holster was back on his body and loaded down with his favorite playthings. Well, second favorite, since his Colt had been ousted by a much taller, leaner version of playtime, it appeared, and that diversion of choice was now in Devon’s hands. No pressure there.

“Spit it out,” Casey demanded.

“It’s, um, not ... that bad.” In an undertone, Devon added, “I guess.”

“You guess? Like, what, your voodoo doll might not work, so your magic pixie dust will do the trick?”

“Johnnie,” he heard Sabine hiss at him from behind.

Casey grumbled for a minute before he flicked his eyes up. “Explain,” he said to the doctor.

“He, uh, hasn’t gained consciousness yet.” Devon was silent for a moment, though he chewed the corner of his mouth in a contemplative manner. “It’s a bit worrisome, bro, but there’s nothing else we can do for him.” He heaved a sigh that had all of them looking over. “It’s up to Chuck now.”

“He’s resilient, John,” Sabine pointed out. “You said it yourself.”

Casey grunted and shoved one hand in his pocket, and realized he was now twiddling with the pocket watch. “I want to see him,” he said. Refusing to stick around for the argument, he crossed in front of the doctor and began to head for the doorway.

“Hang on a second, John.” As Casey reached for the door to push it out of the way, Devon slapped a hand on it. “I think you might want to stay here,” he said, looking apologetic.

“I think you might wanna move your hand,” Casey growled.

When Devon instead gave him a quizzical look, Sabine intervened smoothly between the men. “He’s been known to tear them off and hand them back to people,” she said.

“Oh.” Getting the hint, the doctor raised both hands in a peacekeeping gesture and flashed a smile, albeit a nervous one. “I’m just looking out for you, man.”

“How so?”

Devon crossed his arms. “Well, there are two reasons you don’t want to go up to his room right now.”

“Name them.”

“For one, Chuck is being guarded by an angry – and may I add, slightly terrifying – avenging tigress.”

Great, Casey thought. Just what he didn’t need. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t think she’s in any mood to let you by, bro. She’s a strong lady. Maybe one of the strongest I’ve ever met.” Devon moved a shoulder. “She thinks, in a way, maybe this is your fault.”

“Master of understatement,” Casey said.

“Regardless, she doesn’t want you near him – at least for now.”

“I can handle the bi – eh. Tigress,” Casey corrected at the last second. “Mind telling me the other reason?”

“It should be obvious, man.” Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Devon rubbed the back of his neck and drew his gaze down the larger man. “Maybe you haven’t seen yourself in the mirror, bro, but I don’t think she’s ready to see you ... when you’re covered in Chuck’s blood.”

“Hm?” Casey tilted his head to get a better look at his pale blue cotton shirt. In the commotion, he had forgotten that the kid had seeped out as much blood on him while Casey had carried Chuck to the buggy as he had on his own pants. Maybe more, since Casey was hanging on pretty tightly. “My clean clothes are back at the hotel.”

“I could go if you like,” Morgan spoke up.

Casey’s eyes skimmed over the workshop to the window, considering the offer only for the time it took to picture Morgan up in his hotel room again. Abruptly, he turned and automatically placed a hand on his gun in the holster. “It’s a ten minute ride back to the Grande Beaulieu. I need the air.” He didn’t mention that stepping away would give him time to wrangle up an approach to deal with She Bear. “Try not to screw things up while I’m gone.”

Sabine, analyzing him with those lady-eyes, tucked his vest over a large splotch of blood. She couldn’t possibly think that would help. “In the meantime, I’ll draw a bath for you, Johnnie.”

“Can I go with you?” Morgan pressed.

Casey aimed a squint at him. “Please tell me you don’t mean the bath.”

“No, I – er -”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

Pushing his hat on his head, Casey looked the smaller man up and down before he tapped him again on the forehead. “Because, moron, you have small hands.”

Morgan held them up and examined them as if this was news to him. “They are?”

“Yeah, they are. And I don’t want small man hands pawing through my things.” Under his breath, Casey groused, “Gives me the damn willies.”

“What was that?”

“I said I’ll be back in less than an hour,” Casey replied, heading for the door. “If you hear anything from ... upstairs, come and get me.”

-x-

After quickly changing his clothes and grabbing his satchel, Casey came out onto the long porch of the Grande Beaulieu with no better answer than before on how he would deal with Ellie.

Since she hated him, he might as well get it over with. “Let’s go, Vic.” Casey gave her ribs a nudge and peered ahead into the dark. Though the dirt road down the center of town seemed empty, it was out of habit that he kept one hand wrapped loosely around the reins and the other tight on his holster. Beaufort seemed tame compared to other two-bit whistle stops Casey had ridden through on the way to the next job, he decided. Besides a saloon halfway up the block that looked too fancy anyway, there was only one other building with pale light emanating from the windows, telling him someone was still up at this ungodly hour.

At first, he pushed Vic to trot right by the building. Hell, he didn’t even bother to look over that way. What good would it do? But the horse slowed to a steady walk before he turned the corner at the Millinery, and after that Casey realized it was his own tugging on the reins that had caused her to turn around and head back.

Casey pushed hard against the regret that grew with each steady plod and found that it wouldn’t budge. There were two things back at the house that he had no desire to face. One, the big sister wanted to rip his head off, but that was the least of it. What he really had to work himself up to was a head-on collision with his own failure. A promise to the kid that he’d keep him safe, not to let any man hurt him.

Well, good going, asshole.

Before he chickened out, Casey swung down from his saddle and tied Vic to the hitching post. “Be right back,” he spoke to her, casting one glance up at the silent, starry sky. “And stop looking at me like that. Can’t explain it, either.”

Casey assessed his own appearance and shook his head. With a clean shirt and jeans, he felt better, marginally – well, actually he just felt less like crap. He clenched his fists, feeling the unwelcome sweat return, and strode up to the front entrance to the covered porch lined with stone columns. Part of him wanted to turn around before he could put one boot on those stairs. The other part of him said to stop being a big pussy.

The air in the lobby was cooler than standing outside. That was the first thing he noticed, the physical difference, and then the familiar scents hit him. Old wood mixed with the smoke from candles, mustiness, just a light touch so it became part of the air around him.

“Um, can I ... help you?”

He’d hesitated in the wide, carved doorway, knowing he hadn’t been invited or even belonged there. Now he had no choice but to turn towards the center of the tidy yet small entry hall. A young, twitchy man stood regarding him in a manner that said though he had a clean shirt, Casey probably looked like he had been in a gang fight.

“I’m here to speak to someone ... on some business,” Casey said, eyeing the man just as warily. Skinny and bird-like, he had glasses and a row of black bangs low on his forehead, making him look like he spent too much time with his face planted in books rather than breathing fresh air. “Unless you’re closed.”

“Of course not.” The man motioned for him to step further inside. “I can show you to the –”

“Not you, imbecile.” Uncomfortable, Casey tipped his head towards the back of the entry hall to the wide open room. “Over there.”

“Oh?” Bird Man stopped short and fought off his discomfort by fidgeting with his collar. Just perfect, Casey had to note. More small hands. “But you see, I’m the only one here tonight –”

“I’m here to talk to the man in charge,” Casey finally had to grind out. He found something else to keep his attention, a framed pencil drawing of roses hung on the wall, so that he didn’t have to see the way the man continued to appraise him up and down. “Got a problem with that?”

As in, I don’t want to hear your problem.

“Um, man in charge?”

Casey turned his deadpan stare on the man until he caught the gist.

“Oh, I see.” Pointed Beak, maybe a better name, Casey decided, dipped his head at him and backed up a step. “Right this way ... Mr. ..?”

“I think I can find it,” Casey told him.

The youngster got the hint. Smoothing the front of his shirt, he snagged the lantern from a tabletop in the corner. “All right, then. Can I get you a drink of water?”

“I’m fine.”

“Because you look like you’ve been in a fight.” Holding up the lantern to his face, the man eyed him suspiciously. “There are – ah – red streaks on your neck.”

“No, it was just a really competitive game of badminton,” Casey said dryly. “And in case you’re wondering, it’s not my blood.”

The young man didn’t wince at the ‘fuck off and mind your own business’ undertone. He only thinned his lips and thrust the lantern on a small table next to the airy room’s entrance. “Follow me.”

“Then why are you standing?”

The fidgety kid motioned up towards Casey’s head.

Casey at first squinted down at him. Annoyance quickly turned to realization. He frowned and slipped his hat off his head. Sweaty and streaked with dirt, he dangled his hat in his hands and followed the smaller man into a room imposing enough, tall enough, to inspire awe and bring the usual sinners to their knees.

Casey chose to stand and survey the joint. If the air was chillier in the entry hall, in the vast space he had passed into, it seemed to move, cooling and drying his skin. “Where are you going?” he asked the kid when the other man kept on walking.

“Up front, of course.” Pointed Beak signaled, as if it wasn’t clear enough which direction that was. “And you can call me Mathew, if that will help.”

“It won’t,” Casey replied. “I’ll stay back here.”

“Why?”

Casey let the other man get two more steps before he stopped him. “Has he gotten himself some eye trouble since the last time I was here?”

The smooth-faced youngster turned and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “How long ago was that, anyway?”

“Twenty-five years. Give or take a decade.”

“That’s a long time. Have you been busy?”

Casey snorted. There wasn’t much humor in the noise, but it was nice to find out the kid did have a bit of a sense of humor. “Yeah. Work has kept me busy.”

“Are you going to stand there, or come in?”

“So, he does have eye trouble.”

“Well, no, not exactly.” When the man looked back at him, it was a sober look. No cow-towing, no sulking, just the bare truth on his face. “They say he sees everything.”

“Can he see me trying to get you to leave me alone?”

With a final grimace in Casey’s direction, the kid nodded and motioned for the larger man to make himself at home in the drafty space under the lofty beams above. As Casey stepped to the side, his boots clacked in a hollow sound that reverberated to the far corners. Looking up, he saw the room even had a small, ornate dome overhead and wide corridors to the north and south.

It took a lot to make him feel small, but this place always did. He supposed it had to be large. Maybe it was designed to hold all of the martyrs and their heavy sanctity, or even better, to scare the living shit out of anyone who thought final damnation was the way to go. The whole place screamed ‘It seems fun now, kids, but trust me, you don’t want to punch your ticket for the other place.’

“I’ll be in the front ... if you need me,” Pointed Beak offered.

Casey grunted at the possibility of that happening and watched the man until he sighed and left.

As soon as Casey felt he was alone, he turned to look up. “You haven’t changed,” he said, evaluating the ultimate symbol of sacrifice from a prudent distance. “But you probably forgot about me, eh?” He didn’t expect an answer, but stared at the face full of human suffering anyway. When it remained still, he fiddled with the hat and blew out a breath. “Yeah, I can see you’ve got that shocked look. Well, trust me. This surprises the fuck out me of more n’ anyone. Eh, sorry.” Casey looked around sheepishly before peeking up at one of the arched windows. “Didn’t mean anything by that. Hell, who wouldn’t be surprised? All that talk about our salvation, and look what we did?”

He absorbed the details of what perfect atonement must look like and rubbed his chin to figure out how to express the impossible, especially for John Casey. “If anyone understands anything about redemption, it has to be you,” he said after a pause. “Well, I have no right … Damn, I shouldn’t ever be here. But something brought me here tonight after a long time away … and I’ve got one thing to ask.”

-x-

Sabine took one look at Casey in the doorway of the workshop, her eyes cutting from his blue jeans, holster, and back to his face, and swore. “Good Lord, please tell me you didn’t go into the house with that much blood still on your arms and neck.”

Casey hurriedly set down his satchel he had grabbed at the hotel. “Haven’t even stood in front of a mirror yet. How’s Chuck?”

“No change.” Steam rose from a giant pot she was lugging to one corner of the dim workshop. “Are you going to stand there all night, Johnnie?” she asked without looking over at him. “Because if you’re ready, I need you over here.”

“What for?” Casey asked.

“Get naked.”

Casey’s fingers paused on the holster he had begun to unbuckle. He eyed Sabine distrustfully. “You wanna explain why I need to do that out in the workshop?”

“It’s simple.” Sabine poured the heated water into a steel tub that sat in one dark corner of the workshop. The tub would be a tight fit for the moron to take a bath in there, let alone someone the size of Casey. “The doctor’s bathtub is upstairs – in extremely close proximity to another room where a certain young lady is roaming the hall and using your name in very creative ways.”

“Guess I’ll be taking a bath down here,” Casey said.

“Good thinking. That was the last bucket.” She set the pot down and pushed her hair back from her face. “Now, strip.”

Casey had forgotten just how bossy she could be when she set her mind to it. “You’re gonna just stand there?”

“I’ve seen a few naked men in my day.” Sabine motioned with a hand in the vicinity of his pants. “Get moving.”

“Where’s the moron?” he asked, but he did begin to obediently bend down, bring one boot off the floor to tug at the heel.

“He finally fell asleep on the settee. He wants to be woken up if there’s any change ....”

“Yeah, like we need the idiot fluttering around, yammering in my ear.”

“Give him a break, Johnnie,” Sabine said. Impatient with him, she invaded Casey’s space and began unbuttoning his shirt. “He’s Chuck’s friend – and he’s worried.”

Casey grumbled and slapped her hand away. “Watch it, woman. I can do that.” Besides, there was only one other person who had that kind of permission to undress him, and that was always followed by a damn good reason to get naked. “Are you gonna give me some privacy?”

“I’ve seen it all before, Johnnie,” Sabine purred. “You did stay at my home for a spell, remember?”

Casey’s brow crinkled. “You spied on me?”

Smiling innocently, Sabine handed him a bar of soap. “It was tight quarters in the spare room, and besides, I wanted to see if the merchandise was as fine underneath the jeans as it seemed to be from the backside view.”

“Hope it didn’t disappoint,” he rumbled under his breath. “Now do you mind? Turn around – unless you want another free show.”

“Sounds okay on my end,” she teased, twirling a lock of hair around one finger.

“Yeah? Here’s something for you.” Casey motioned a finger at her, a different one than she had used, and turned to face the tub. Still feeling her watchful presence, he took the shirt off first, pulling it free and tossing it onto the arm of a nearby chair. “If you’re trying to get me to ... relax about the kid, it’s not working.”

“Maybe not, but hot water and soap will do you wonders. If not for your attitude, at least for your ... scent.”

Casey shot her a dour look over his shoulder and began to shuck off his jeans. “Has the doctor been down in the last hour?”

“You just missed him,” Sabine said, and he could hear a rustling sound from behind him. Hopefully, she had turned around, or now she was getting the show he promised. “Devon said that he and Ellie are going to take turns watching over him and try to get a few hours of shut eye. You could use some, too, you know.”

“Not sleeping.” The jeans and undershorts came off all the way in one long drag. Standing there, tall and naked, he dipped a foot in – God, it felt beautiful – and stepped over the rim into the knee-deep water. Bending down, he wet the cloth that had been lying at the edge of the basin and began to wash his face.

A slap on his backside startled him. “Stubborn ass. Hm. Hard ass, too, I see. Lovely.”

“Christ, woman!” In his haste to throw her a threatening look, he had half-turned before he caught himself. “Made me drop the damn soap.”

“I can get it for you if you like, Johnnie.”

When he only muttered a few more curses, his ears were met with a low, smoky laugh. “Damn, you still have it.”

“Don’t finish that -”

“Your ass couldn’t sag if you tied weights to it.”

Knowing he would only encourage her teasing if he engaged, Casey got back to washing himself, his soap and water-slicked fingers moving over his chest, his neck, and down to his stomach. Well, every part of him needed a good scrubbing, and if Sabine was watching, so be it. Slowly, working the soap up and down his shaft, under the broad ridge of the head, he wondered how long he’d have to wait to do the same for Chuck. That was one bath he wouldn’t mind reciprocating, and his mind immediately went back to the night at the farm in the kid’s giant tub. Just the reminder made him firm up, not what he needed right now, so he reluctantly pushed the thought away. Putting the cloth back into the basin to rinse it, wringing it out again, he wiped away the soap with more water.

“I can see you have this handled.” It sounded like she might be suppressing a smile, though from the noises behind his back, she could’ve been sifting through his bag for a pair of jeans with less blood on them. “I’ll leave a drying cloth here and head into the house. Since you won’t sleep, I think I’ll see if the doctor has any black tea.”

“If the kid is awake, come and get me.”

“I recommend getting dressed before you barge in.”

“Good thinking,” he repeated back at her in a smart ass tone. Behind him, the heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges, leaving him with the quiet murmur of the crickets in the yard to play havoc with his own dark thoughts.

Casey spotted more blood on his upper arm that he had missed, and grabbed the cloth to rewet it. Every drop of moisture rolling over his skin once again reminded him of the touch of Chuck’s dexterous hands, the slide of his body under his.

“God, kid ....” Now Casey knew he was finally alone, and he knew he was just going to die with the need to be with Chuck again, right here. The ache in his gut was as excruciating as the pain he had been feeling since this whole ordeal started, only he wanted this ache. The memory of his young lover looking up at him in that tub crept into his head again, and this time he let it stick around and work a little. Every detail about that night was warm and wet: the steaming water, the kid’s mouth and tongue on him, slipping, gliding. Yeah. It was a knot drawing tighter and tighter, but when it released, oh God, it was going to be so fucking good -

He heard footsteps coming around the doorway.

Casey stilled, halfway bent down to retrieve the soap. Sabine wouldn’t have returned this quickly, and everyone else in the house was occupied with either sleeping or watching over the patient. His heart immediately kicked into gear, hammering against his ribcage. Carefully, swiftly, he leaned over and scooped up his holster, yanked out the Colt and whirled to face –

“Um, Mr. Casey?” Ellie’s gaze traveled up, down, and finally froze just beneath center – before she remembered herself, made one of those womanly meep noises, and slapped her hands over her eyes. “Oh my God!”

“Shh! Jesus, woman, do you want to wake up everyone in Beaufort and let them know I’m standing here buck naked in the workshop?” Casey lowered his gun, blanching at the fact he had just pointed two of his handiest weapons at the sister of the man who had just been romping in his fantasies. As quick as he could, he jammed the Colt in the holster and covered the other weapon by turning around again. “Can’t you give a man a warning before you come waltzing in here?”

“I was – ah – you’re naked!” The girl kept her hands clamped firmly over her face. “Oh, God. Very, extremely, naked!”

“Most people prefer to take their baths that way,” Casey said, searching for something to hide his backside on the hunch that she was eventually going to open her eyes. Shit! Why did Sabine have to put the damn towel way over there on the workbench?

“I didn’t – know -”

“And since I thought you were a proper lady and all, don’t you usually knock before entering?”

“Oh God.” He heard rustling behind him, more footsteps. “A gun pointed at me? Who – who takes a gun to a bath?”

Who doesn’t? Casey stopped himself from saying.

“Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve had to reach for a pistol after putting yourself in an awkward position!”

“There was nothing awkward about it until thirty seconds ago,” Casey mumbled. Realizing he was just standing there with his ass in full view, he forced himself to look past his shoulder to gauge the distance to the towel. Snatching it off the bench discreetly was out of the question, and the only thing that he had on hand for coverage was the measly scrap of washcloth. Well, that wasn’t going to do it. Barely covered anything. “How’s Chuck?”

“Oh Lord.”

“What?” A momentary jolt of panic almost had him turning around.

“Oh. Uh, that had nothing to do with Chuck. He’s ... the same. He hasn’t woken up.” From the sounds of it, the kid’s sister had begun to pace. “Oh my God.”

“Is that all you’re going to say,” Casey asked, “or did you come out here for another reason besides gauging my man parts?”

“I – would do nothing of the kind.” She didn’t sound amused, merely offended. “What can I get you to, um, cover up?”

Casey straightened a little bit and pointed past his shoulder. “There’s a towel over there. Do you mind? Unless you want me to turn around.”

“Ah, no thank you.” There was the sound of her skirt rustling as she walked over and picked up the folded towel. It was followed by the soft padding of her feet crossing the floor, pausing when she hesitated.

“You can come closer. Nothing back there bites,” Casey said, staring at the wall. “Besides, didn’t you get an eyeful of male equipment in your fancy lady doctor school in Boston? Don’t tell me you only treated the ones with their clothes on?”

An annoyed snort. “It’s complicated – and quite different when someone is a patient of yours rather than – well, my brother’s ... I’m not even certain what to call you.”

“Boyfriend,” Casey said. He dropped the smidgen of cloth and folded his arms, waiting.

“Hm. I see.” Ellie had stepped up behind him, and it did amuse the hell out of him to wonder where her eyes were. “Here.” Her voice made it sound as if she was trying to assume professional-doctor mode. Stopping to clear her throat – twice – blew that attempt. “I have your towel ... if you’ll just, well, reach around.”

“Thanks,” Casey said, his lips twisting into a wry smile. He nearly turned to point it at her to confirm if she was blushing, but remembered he had some major sucking up to do. Embarrassing the kid’s sister any further for checking out his ass wasn’t going to earn him any points.

“We need to talk ... when you’re dressed,” Ellie said. There was more swishing, followed by something like the sound a shoe’s toe stumbling in the dirt. “Dang it.”

“You okay?” Casey asked over his shoulder. In the meantime, he stepped out of the tiny basin and bent over to run the towel down his legs and back up. “Didn’t fall, did you?”

“Um, nothing ... nothing. I just – ah – got my foot stuck at the bottom of this – thing, whatever it is.”

“The sawhorses have a tendency to jump out at you if you’re not looking.” Casey, still biting down a smirk, wrapped the towel around his waist and finally turned to face her. Being in a hurry to get covered, he had skipped drying off his chest and arms, and now stood dripping, skin gleaming in the faint glow from the kerosene lantern. “What did you want to talk about?”

Cautiously, Ellie opened her eyes, just to slits, and pushed a hand through her hair. Her gaze cut immediately to the vicinity of his chest, down to the low place on his hips where the towel hung, and lower to his legs. When she tried to meet his eyes – no luck there - she flushed bright red and half-turned, shaking her head and fiddling with one of the wing’s harnesses. “I wanted to see you, Mr. Casey –”

“Done that already, I reckon.”

Casey swore the blood drained out of her face, but then again, she was doing her best to avoid his eyes. Hadn’t she ever seen a half-naked wet man stepping out of a bath before?

Well, considering she had the same dandified upbringing as his naïve boyfriend – and Casey had enjoyed sullying that right out of him - probably not.

“I wanted to see you face to face … or, well, face to …whatever,” Ellie said, backpedaling, “to tell you that you should leave.”

“Then you wasted your time,” Casey replied automatically. “Unless there’s anything else you came out here to see?”

Her uncomfortable look darted over him, her eyes lingering on his chest a half second too long. She cleared her throat and folded her arms over her dress, regaining composure. “You’ve done quite enough damage, don’t you think? You’ve only managed to get my brother kidnapped and ... nearly killed.” Her voice became strangled at that suggestion. “He was never in danger until he met you. I’m taking him back to Boston when he can be moved. That’s where he belongs.”

Casey ran a hand through his hair to push the water out, since he didn’t dare use the towel. “Does this have anything to do with the fact your brother likes men – or is it just me you hate?”

“This has nothing to do with my brother’s inclinations, Mr. Casey.” Ellie glared at him and picked up one of the kid’s wooden models on his workbench, examining it for a moment. “Do you really think I’m that foolish? I always knew he was different than the other boys. And I always knew I would love him no matter who – well, no – I didn’t mean that -”

“His choice shocked the hell out of you, didn’t it?”

“You’re not his choice,” Ellie corrected icily. “Look at you. I mean, don’t look at you, but - I always thought someone like Bryce would be the type he would drift to, not that they could ever have a life together, but something .... I’m not naïve, Mr. Casey. I have read a book before. I do know that men like my brother can have someone ... discreetly on the side.”

Everything inside him wanted to twist at the mention of that name. God, if only he could kill him more than once. “Your brother is a big boy now.” Casey closed one hand over the tucked and rolled knot of the towel, stood taller. “Maybe he should be the one to decide who he wants to be with ... from here on out.”

The implication, the fierce commitment behind the last four words was not lost on her. She lifted her eyes to study him, just hints of the kid’s same chocolate brown glinting in the dim light. “No offense, but I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible. Now, there’s the matter of your pants, Mr. Casey. Can I assume they’re in this bag?”

As Casey stared at her, a fire spread through his body, scorching its way to his fingers and toes. Did that bitc- sister really think it would be that easy to shuffle him out the door? Heh. Well, being nice – okay, fine, nicer than usual – sure as hell wasn’t working.

You saw the hard ass, he thought. Now you’re gonna get the hard ass.

Watching her cross the room with his satchel in hand, Casey loosened the knot and threw his shoulders back a little, giving her another eyeful of wet skin. He put a little stretch into leaning back, drawing her attention to his upper torso, the strength of his arms, biting back a chuckle as she snuck a quick glance at his groin area. “No offense, Miss, but you can also assume it will take more than a tiny, hot-headed broad to keep me away from your brother.”

Her eyes drew down to where he was threatening to lose the towel. Yeah, it was a shitty power play, but he wasn’t going to let her play that game. Understanding his meaning, she gave him a dirty look, at the same time dropping the pants in his hand. “I can see why my brother was charmed by you.”

“Yeah, I bet you did, sister,” Casey mumbled, secretly gleeful at how easily she had stepped into that one.

Ellie opened her mouth, but someone rapped hard on the doorframe, drawing their attention over to Devon. He had two cups of tea in his hands and a bewildered look on his face. “Hey, guess I came at a bad time – whoa.” Finally catching sight of Casey, his eyes swooped down before they bulged and he backed up a step. “Bro, I don’t know what’s going on here, but maybe you should think about putting some pants on around the pretty señorita, eh?”

“Actually, he was getting ready to leave,” Ellie couldn’t resist saying as she glowered at him. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Casey?”

Casey growled. “Not a chance, sister.”

“So you were having a good chat, guys?” Devon inquired, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, just peachy. Any change?” Casey turned around and dropped the towel but held his pants in his fist to cover himself. Hey, what did she expect? If they weren’t going to get out of his way, he would have to get dressed here. “Did he wake up?”

“Oh my God.” He heard Ellie intake a breath and spin around again. “You have no propriety, Mr. Casey!”

“No, um, no change – Ellie, are you all right?”

“You can see I’m fine, Dr. Woodcomb,” Ellie said.

“Is it true that you’re leaving?” Devon asked Casey.

“Hell no – for some reason, that woman,” and Casey paused to slam each leg in his jeans, then hopped to pull them up, “thinks that I’m just going to slink out of here in the night like a coward.”

Ellie turned very slowly, probably checking to see he had donned pants. “Devon, this is your home,” she pointed out, gesturing at Casey without looking ... much. “He’s done nothing but hurt my brother. You need to ask him to leave..”

Devon raised his eyebrows at that. Confusion flavored his look now, so he took his time folding his arms over his shirt, exchanging a glimpse between Chuck’s boyfriend and sister.

Finally, he just said, “Sorry, Ellie, but I can’t do that.”

“What?” Ellie’s eyes sprung wide and she rounded on Devon. “Why not?”

Casey looked over to find Devon surveying him openly. He had his arms crossed in front, but he finally unwound them and shrugged. “Because, Ellie, you need to know something about your brother,” he observed, wrapping a hand around one of the wing’s vertical braces. “I never saw Chuck smile – I mean really smile – until the night John Casey showed up here in his workshop.”

“I ... don’t understand,” Ellie said.

“I mean your brother has been carrying something around with him since he got here. Every time he spoke, there was ... an ache in his voice that didn’t belong there. But I could hear it. It was like a weight on his chest holding him to the ground.”

Though Casey had kept to his stern look throughout both interruptions, he had to shift his eyes away now. Jesus, if there was ever anything he would hear that affirmed every moment they had, those were the words. Hearing them, his lungs filled like taking a clean breath of fresh air.

“At first, I thought it was frustration,” Devon went on. “You know, the flying machine and all? I couldn’t understand why he had to build it, but I guess being a friend means more than not questioning, it means handing someone the hammer.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” Ellie put in.

“No, not even close.” Devon frowned. “There was a ghost somewhere in his past, someone he had lost. Well, I tried to let him down because those people never come back.” His eyes settled on Casey, so busy staring that he had almost forgotten the shirt he had begun to dig out of his pack. “This ghost came back. He’s right there in the flesh. And the only thing I know is that that was the night I saw Chuck come back to life.”

Ellie bit her lip. Turning to look at Casey and nowhere else, she put a hand on the back of her neck and huffed in resignation, though Casey had a sense her reluctant compliance was temporary. “If that’s what it takes to get my brother to wake up, then yes, he can see him. Whatever will help Chuck. That’s what I want.”

-x-

It had been the world’s quietest walk between the workshop and the doctor’s folksy Victorian, Casey decided. Ellie didn’t bother to turn around once as she led him through the garden, up the porch steps and through the back door to the kitchen.

When they stepped inside, Sabine looked up from the teapot and stretched out her back. “He can be rather convincing, can’t he?” she asked Ellie.

She’d caught her mid-yawn. “It’s two-thirty in the morning. You can call it a weak moment. But I don’t see any harm in letting Mr. Casey see my brother if it means he’ll pack up and go after that.”

“Oh, um, sure.” Sabine stirred the tea and gave Casey a look that was the equivalent of ‘she has no idea the mule-headed ass you are.’ “I can bring up some tea in a few minutes if you like.”

“You’ve been a great help, Sabine.” Ellie zoomed in on Casey with an altogether different look. “So I’ll apologize now if I pull out your friend’s spleen with a rusty scalpel and knitting needles if he ever hurts my brother again.”

Sabine coughed up a sip of tea. “Sorry. Hot.”

On that happy note, Casey took a second to rub his eyelids. What the hell was he thinking? Was he really crazy enough to bring the kid back here to the Mother Bear’s den? Why didn’t he just kidnap Chuck and the doctor, and take them somewhere else?

“Ah, dammit,” Casey muttered at his own lack of foresight.

“What was that?” Ellie asked.

“Nothing.” Casey slipped his hat off his head. Bloody rags were soaking in a bucket in the corner. “How is he?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” Ellie’s face was white, strained lines around her mouth. “You can follow me. This doesn’t mean you can stay. Just see him and leave.”

Ellie had become so stiff the line of her shoulders were visible under her shirt, Casey noticed, as she led them up the stairs. Fortunately, she didn’t change her mind about him being able to see the kid by the time they reached the narrow hallway.

Casey stopped at the doorway, his hands clasping the handle, thankful that Ellie was ahead of him and didn’t witness him briefly closing his eyes. When he opened them and stepped in the room, his gaze went straight to the bed.

There was Chuck.

The kid was stripped of the filthy, torn jeans of course, his injured leg sticking out from under a white sheet. It matched his pallor, making it almost tricky to see where the hard flesh met the bedding, like the sheets could swallow him up.

Hesitating only for a second, Casey crossed over to the bed and tried not to brood over the thick bandage wrapped tightly around Chuck’s upper leg. A blood stain had soaked through the fabric, the sight of it making Ellie sigh as she began to unravel a roll of clean cloth on the side table. “He’s going to need a new dressing. I trust you can stay with him for a few minutes while I fetch a pan of hot water from the stove?” Under her breath, she added stiffly, “Without doing further damage?”

Ignoring the jibe, Casey nodded at her. “I can help with the bandages. And I have extract of willow bark in my pack. It seemed to do the trick the last time for the pain –”

“The last time? You’ve done quite enough, Mr. Casey.” Ellie glanced sharply at him, taking in his appearance. “There was quite a bit of blood on you. Do you need medical attention as well?”

“No. Not my blood.”

“You’re obviously a better fighter than my brother,” she replied. “I’m going to go check on the hot water.”

When Ellie left them alone, Casey approached the bed, wavered, and ran a hand down the curve of the kid’s ribcage. There were bruises rising there from where they had either kicked him or punched him. He wanted to go hurt Liam and Rudy some more if he could. “Chuck?” Casey cleared his throat. “Gonna look at me, brown eyes?”

Even if he heard his voice, Chuck didn’t move or twitch a muscle. Casey dropped his hand from the kid’s side, swallowed the hurt. He took advantage of the minute of privacy he would apparently be given to remember everything he ... loved about Chuck’s face, the feel of his skin.

“Chuck. Will you ever trust me again?” Gingerly touching his cheek, he ran his fingertips along the slope of his jaw. “Do you blame me, kid?” he asked to his sleeping lover, roughness in his voice. “Because maybe you should.”

He didn’t want Ellie to come back into the room. Everything in him just needed to soak in the kid being here and being alive. For now, a nasty voice in his head added, and he pushed it back.

“Know what I miss?” Casey murmured, keeping his voice low since he had no desire to be outed as a giant pussy. “Seeing your eyes, pancake. Think you can show them to me?”

The kid’s eyes remained closed, but his lips were slightly parted, so Casey moved his touch there, tracing them. The fact that he didn’t react or say anything was terribly wrong, and nothing else mattered.

“Okay, if you won’t do that, I know you wanna talk.” Casey scrubbed a hand over his own face. “Bet you have a few choice words for me, don’t you?” Reaching out, Casey put one hand on the side of Chuck’s neck, threading fingers under his hair, massaging it lightly before tousling a few curls. His hair was as long and whacky as Casey had ever seen it, and despite everything his lips contorted into a melancholy smile.

“Don’t even think of getting it chopped off,” Casey told him, ruffling it one more time before pulling his hand away. “It’d be like a hunting dog without its tail.”

If Chuck had an opinion on keeping his unruly curls intact, he wasn’t sharing that either. He lay still, his chest rising and falling.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Casey went on, brushing it back from his temple as his eyes drank in every angular detail of his cheeks and nose, his jaw. Being unconscious gave the kid’s face a more boyish appearance, something Casey didn’t think was even possible. Dark brows were there, but all those emotions that moved under his eyes, like streaks of clouds across a stormy sky, were missing.

Casey took the kid’s wrist in his hand, examined the bandages Ellie or Devon had placed around each one. No blood leaked through them at least, since the rope burns were only on the surface. Only. God, what a clinical asshole he was.

Checking to make sure there were no footsteps on the stairs just yet, Casey dipped his head, pressed his lips to Chuck’s shoulder, the warmth of his skin assuring him of life. His mouth traveled along the bone of his jaw and his fingers brushed the kid’s hips. Moving on to Chuck’s throat, he nuzzled him there, smelled the intoxicating combination of clean soap and cotton, but Chuck’s cluelessly perfect scent was under it. Casey pressed his lips to his as lightly as he could, tasted warmth. “Chuck? You can wake up now. Come on, kid. I know you want to tell me what’s going through that head of yours ....”

Nothing.

Well, this wasn’t a fucking fairy tale. The kid wasn’t going to wake up at the touch of his lover’s lips.

Casey looked over at the flame in the lamp. His knees were on the rug at the side of the bed. He couldn’t recall when he had dropped down in futility, in likeness to the prayer bench tonight, he only knew the weight of guilt and the fear of losing the one thing that was his. Now this was God’s plan. His heart was being savaged as punishment.

“It was still the luckiest day of my life, you know? Finding that damn farm of yours.”

Picking up his limp hand, Casey linked their fingers, holding them together so tightly he could feel the kid’s pulse through his hand. Their two bodies would be one, even when Casey physically pulled away.

For the second time in an hour, Casey found himself doing the last thing he expected. Praying to a Man, a Deity he had lost faith in years ago, give a quiet entreaty for another man who, for some unearthly reason, had faith in him.

He’d never felt anything like this. Helpless as a kitten, and he sure as hell didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he just shake Chuck to bring him back, then let himself get lost in the dark pools in those eyes?

Oddly, Casey couldn’t find words this time, only held his hand, rubbing his thumb along the kid’s knuckles. It was warm. Everything about him. The heat without reaction paralyzed Casey’s voice; all he could do was move against Chuck, convey his desire and last hope with his body. God dammit, he was trembling, all over, so hard his teeth were practically chattering.

All those promises to each other. It was never supposed to happen like this.

For a moment, when Casey tilted his head back up and his scrutiny burned a path down the kid’s body, he realized this might be the most difficult thing he ever had to face, and considering his life, that seemed impossible.

Casey rested his head on the edge of the mattress for a second or two, no longer trying to pray - worthless as that was. From the stillness between them, like the stillness he felt when the kid smiled at him and touched his hand, he knew Chuck stood inside him in this moment. Laying a hand on his face, he cupped his jaw, fingers pressing over his temple, touching the still damp strands of hair. “It’s killing me, kid, thinking about what you went through, how I couldn’t be there to protect you. Especially since you did it for me. You don’t know that, do you? When you touched me in the night – well ... you were the one, puppy, helping to heal those wounds.”

His attention flicked up briefly, lingered on Chuck’s mouth, then over the sweep of shoulders that the kid would be embarrassed were exposed like this. “There were some things I never told you,” Casey said in a hushed tone. “I never understood it deep down, what this felt like, brown eyes. You’re grace and faith. Not me. And I never felt lonely when you were with me.”

Casey captured the long fingers and gave them a little shake. When there was nothing, he dropped them again. “You’re wondering why I’m saying this now. Why I never told you any of this. The way you could wipe away things people call … hopelessness … despair. Violence and anger.” Casey’s thumb caressed just the inside of the pale column of his throat. “Because I’m a dumbass, that’s why.”

“Well, Mr. Casey, I’m glad we agree on something.”

Casey jolted up to his feet. “Sneaking around like a damn cat,” he said, pissed that he had left a portion of his manhood on the floor if she had witnessed any of that little display. “How long were you standing there?”

“I just came up the stairs now,” Ellie replied, glancing suspiciously at him and then checking out her brother for any other injuries. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“Can you help me with the hot water?” Ellie pointed with her chin to a side table. “I want to set this over there if you don’t mind.”

Casey took the pot from her. “Where’s the doctor?”

“I am a doctor,” she said, and a glint of resentment lit her eyes. “Devon and I are taking turns watching over him so that we can both try and get some rest. You should get some, too. Why don’t you go back to your hotel?”

“Is that really what you want?” Casey watched her face closely. “Because I think you mean I should go back to Colorado and the rock I crawled out from under. Is that it?”

“Yes.” Ellie said it emphatically. “That’s precisely what I mean.”

“Not happening.”

“You’re a frustrating, stubborn man, Mr. Casey.” Her version of ‘stubborn’ surpassed anything he could dole out, but she wasn’t waiting for him to point out the irony. Ellie peeled back an edge of the bandage and asked, “How did you meet my brother?”

“How?” Casey shook his head and had to tack on a humorless chuckle. “You don’t want to know.”

She briefly looked up from the bandage. “I want to hear it.”

Casey took the end of the bandage roll in an effort to help. It also gave him a moment to decide how he would reply. “Well, think of it this way,” he began slowly, his voice low. “Lost people have a way of attracting like fireflies in the night, snapping different lights … bringing themselves together. You could say we were both lost … and then it was the snapping lights … a storm over the low hills … and that farm of his came into sight. It’s what brought us together.” Suppressing a sigh, he turned his attention to Chuck’s face. “The lights out of the darkness.”

Ellie thought about it as she tore a length of cloth. “And now you should fly ... apart,” she said.

“I already told you, Miss. I’m not leaving his side.”

Ellie gave him one of those tight smiles. “This is Dr. Woodcomb’s home. I suppose he’ll have a say in who will be taking up residence and who will be asked to shuffle back to the hole they –”

“Guys .... guys ....”

At first, Ellie slanted a sour look at him, and her hazel eyes were hard, brittle. “What is it you want now?”

Then it occurred to her that it wasn’t Casey who had spoken.

Casey felt his heart jump, and he all but spun on the spot, staring down at the bed. “Kid?” He noticed his voice had more than rust sitting there, making it hard to speak. “Did – did you just say something ..?”

“Mmm.” Chuck half smiled sleepily. One hand flopped in the air towards Casey, but the larger man was still too shocked to take it. “Wha – happened? Your hand ... felt good.”

“My hand? Oh.” Kneeling quickly, Casey slid his fingers around Chuck’s hand, shocked to hear his own breath draw in sharply. He brushed his cheek in a quicksilver kiss, lacing fingers with the kid’s light but confident grip. “Jesus ... Chuck?”

“Um-hum,” he answered, and Casey could see his throat bob painfully as he swallowed. “Hope I – I didn’t scare you, Casey. Because you look a little pale.” Chuck licked his chapped lips and lifted his chin to squint up at his sister. “Hey … hey, El … I missed you.”

“Chuck, my God,” Ellie choked. Not two seconds later, Casey’s ears were greeted by the sound of sniffling. Great. The big sister was crying. Now Casey knew for certain he wasn’t going to turn around.

It seemed to take great effort, but Chuck opened both eyes a little wider. All the weariness in the world was held in them. “Please, please don’t cry. I’m fine ... not going anywhere, Ellie.” The kid cleared his throat and the weak smile became slightly crooked. “I just wanted to ask you two to shut up and try ... to be nice to each other.”

If that was supposed to repress the female tears, well, it had the opposite effect.

Casey picked up Chuck’s hand and kissed the back of his knuckles, then surprised himself by caressing it with his cheek while his other hand brushed the kid’s hair back from his face. His insides unthawed with the heat from his eyes. Lowering his lips to Chuck’s ear, he nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, ignoring Ellie’s presence. “What took you so long, pancake?”

“I guess I ... lost track of time?”

Casey brushed a thumb across the kid’s smile, happy to see his humor might still be intact. “Always had your head in the clouds.”

Chuck huffed and blinked his eyes. They were bloodshot and hazy, and the most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen. “You came back for me.”

“You’re not surprised, I hope.” Casey touched his cheek. The shock on his face was replaced by a real smile for the first time in days. “Truth is, kid, I never really left.”

Chuck’s fingers squeezed his hand. “You okay?” he asked, those brown eyes feebly sizing him up.

“Me?” Casey shook his head dumbly.

“You look tired. Come here.” The kid patted the side of the mattress. “I can make room.”

Casey refused to look over to see Ellie’s tears, since they would now be mingled with either embarrassment or disapproval. Instead, he obediently stretched out next to him and wrapped an arm around Chuck’s middle. “Better?”

“Mm. El … I know we have to talk … and you can stay right here if you’d like … but right now, I need to sleep ….”

“I’ll … I’ll leave you two for now,” Ellie said, and with a curt nod, she turned and left.

-x-

Casey didn’t know how long it took for Chuck’s breath to even out while he did nothing but trace random patterns on the smooth skin of his waist with his fingertips. He couldn’t sleep just yet. He had lost him, had him take such a hunk of his heart, and almost lost him again.

Now he was here, half lying on the bed, body spreading warmth. Casey drew him close against him and held the kid, smoothing his big hands lightly over his hair, cradling Chuck’s head against his chest.

And then he began to feel creek water at the corner of his eyes again, but this time with relief. In his state of upheaval it seemed illogical, but if Chuck knew him from the insides and still wanted him, then the sister and the world bedamned, everything would be all right.

“Not letting go now, kid,” Casey murmured. He buried his nose in those curls, inhaled, and holding him carefully against his chest, he finally closed his eyes.

The kid had done the impossible, but it wasn’t the inexplicable act of incineration Casey had witnessed. Hell, not even close. He made a hollow man love. Restored his godly faith in something he thought he had lost. That was the goddamn miracle tonight.

One last thought rose like a whitecap in a storm before he felt every muscle relax. Ellie was going to find them wrapped around each other in the morning, and she wasn’t done trying to drive a wedge between them just yet.

-x-End Chapter Twenty Where the Road Ends-x-


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-One

-x-

There was something to be said about waking up curled around a big body, as warm as a fire in the dead of winter. His boyfriend’s proximity, coupled with the light sound of his breathing, was heat and comfort all at once.

At least he had stopped snoring, Chuck thought, suppressing a smile.

The kid stayed still, watching Casey sleep. He didn’t know how long he could just lie here with that arm draped over his waist, doing nothing but tickling the hairs on his forearm with only the slightest touch of his fingertips, but he figured forever and then some sounded pretty good. Even if the bed wasn’t exactly built for two tall men, or the softest in the world, that didn’t matter. He had Casey back from the dead and then was yanked back to the living himself, and now the kid actually felt ... happy. A little overwhelmed with the past week of his life, nervous about Ellie and Casey, but he was trying not to overthink the inevitable discussion the two would have. Eventually. Later would be best, but he wasn’t banking on it.

The eagerness to talk to him got the better of Chuck. So far, he had only studied the face of his sleeping lover or barely touched him, but now he needed to see his eyes. And there was only one way to do that.

Well, maybe more than one. But that was distinctly off limits as long as Ellie was hovering at the door every five minutes to check on him.

Reaching over, Chuck traced the tip of his finger down Casey’s nose, across his lips, back and forth. “Maybe you knew this,” he murmured, and his fingertip outlined the bone of his angular jaw, “but you’re awfully cute when you’re sleeping. Not nearly as scary.”

Casey made a sleepy noise in the back of his throat. “And I will bite that off if you keep tormenting me,” he said, shifting a little.

“Sorry.” Chuck smiled.

They’d kicked off most of the blankets in the night, but everything about the bed was still scorching. He blamed Casey. The larger man had taken his shirt off during a sleepy tussle for more room, something the kid found very distracting, and when he shifted again, settling against him, the feel of his skin caused another kind of diversion all together.

“You’ve forgotten all your bed manners, pancake,” Casey told him groggily. His hips moved to bump him. “Something I’ll be happy to teach you all over again.”

Chuck felt his cheeks burn as he darted a look at the doorway. Any other time, he might appreciate the lesson, but not under the current circumstances. “Shh!”

“What?” Casey mumbled. One of his hands moved over Chuck’s flat stomach, rumpling the clean shirt someone had shoved on him at some point. “You didn’t mind before ....”

“She can hear you,” Chuck hissed, and took hold of the thick wrist, trying to keep those strong fingers from going up and under his shirt. No matter how badly he wanted them there. “And as long as we’re here ... with her watching us, it’s going to have to be, er, a hands-off policy.”

“Well, there are other body parts besides hands I wouldn’t mind –”

“Shh!”

Casey grinned, the unrepentant one, and scooted in to rest his chin on one of Chuck’s biceps. Lord knew, he had to be bone weary after their adventure, but his boyfriend seemed too relieved to care. “Still too modest for your own good,” he rumbled against the kid’s hair. “I like that .... Go back to sleep, then. You need it.”

Casey had a point. He probably should. But being held close here on the bed, feeling one of Casey’s legs slung over his uninjured thigh, the kid just wanted to lie there awake. He couldn’t stop marveling that he had his lover next to him again, knowing Casey was all his now.

“Casey, before Ellie gets back, there’s something you have to do.”

Casey chuckled against his neck. That pesky hand moved north first, then began a detour southward down his abdomen. “Finally coming around, huh?”

“Not that. Geez.” The kid knew he was only being pestered – Casey seemed to be on pins and needles around him, or more specifically, the bullet wound – but Chuck passed his hand back to him anyway. “I’m serious, okay?”

“What do you need?”

“Did ... ah, Devon or Morgan ... see anything out in the woods? With ... what happened to Liam?”

Casey lifted his head and his expression sobered. “No, they stayed back in the forest,” he replied, fingertips scrubbing lightly over the kid’s ribcage. “Until they were jumped by a few of Liam’s men –”

“What?”

“Of course, Sabine intervened on their behalf,” Casey explained carefully, “and after that she was stuck with them.” At Chuck’s questioning look, Casey just shook his head. “They saw her get tied to the tree. At least the numb nuts didn’t jump out and try to stop Liam. They waited. But once they freed her, Sabine threatened to tie them up if they tried to follow us.”

“Well, threats are very effective when you’re carrying a rifle.”

“Glad you’re on my side,” Casey said. “Anyway, Sabine told the doctor and the Moron they had to wait there for half an hour, no matter what. If we didn’t come back, they were to go get help. Then she followed our trail.”

“I wondered how she got back to the bridge.” Chuck frowned. “Though, I wouldn’t put the arm-gnawing thing past her if it meant keeping us safe.”

“Hell of a woman,” Casey agreed.

“But ... she saw, obviously,” Chuck said, turning to look at the ceiling, his fingers still absently stroking Casey’s arm. “What ... does she think happened? She must’ve had questions.”

“Shit, kid, who doesn’t?” Casey’s sentence was cut off with a back stretch. “How the hell does someone even begin to explain that?”

“But she hasn’t ... asked?”

“Once.”

“And?”

“I was vague. Sabine knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

“Oh.” Chuck’s hand found Casey’s resting on his chest. He passed his thumb over each bump of the other man’s knuckles, another worry pouring over him. “Did Ellie want to know what happened to ... Bryce?”

“I told her he had to go home,” he said and shrugged against the kid’s arm. “I just didn’t tell her it was to meet his Maker. So what if it’s the one with cloven feet and a pitchfork.”

“I can’t believe he’s ... gone.”

Casey got up on one elbow to really eyeball him. “Kid, that can’t possibly be regret I hear.”

“He was my friend at one point, John. Even if too much happened after that, no one deserves to be ....” Chuck swallowed. “Shot in the head.”

“Jesus.” Casey’s quiet voice spiked straight to Chuck’s brain. He grabbed his chin, turned the kid’s head, and now Chuck had no choice but to fasten his eyes to his. “You think he wasn’t going to do what he intended? Do you really think he’d let the guilt get in the way of his plan that night? You think that would’ve stopped him from getting you drunk, fucking you, and handing you over to your dad? And when he was a cornered rat, do you think he wasn’t going to just shoot you?”

Chuck couldn’t answer. His eyes were so wide he could feel the warm air in the room drying them out as he stared over at Casey.

“Damn straight, he was going to do it. Every time, kid.” Casey let go of Chuck’s face and turned on his back. There was immediately less skin contact along their bodies, maybe something Casey meant to do.

“Sorry, I know you were only protecting me,” Chuck said. “It’s just ... hard to get used to all of this sometimes.”

“Don’t want you to get used to it,” Casey answered roughly. Dragging a hand through his own short yet tousled hair, he seemed to relax, a suspicion that was confirmed when that same big hand landed on Chuck’s lower belly. “It’s better if you don’t.”

“Well, what about my father, then?”

Casey rolled on his side again, an arm sliding over the kid’s waist and one leg stretching over his knee. The sudden weirdness between them caused by Bryce slowly receded. “What about him?”

“He has the Cipher, doesn’t he?”

“He may.”

“And what if he comes back?”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens.” Casey shrugged and feathered a hand over the side of the kid’s ribcage, gently testing a bruise that had caught his attention. When Chuck flinched, he drew back, sighed. “I’ve got a bullet in my pocket that I’ll carry for the rest of his life if I have to.”

“Yippee. Lucky me.” Chuck wasn’t certain he’d be able work to up too many tears if it did happen. His father’s condemning words flitted like bees in his brain. They still stung.

“C’mere,” Casey said, and he grabbed Chuck’s chin again. Chuck only tensed for a second or two until he found it was for a much more pleasant reason. With his hand curled around the kid’s jaw, Casey bent his head and kissed him. Slowly and gently, teasing his mouth with a few lazy strokes of his tongue until Chuck felt a faint shudder in his muscles. Maybe being overly cautious, he could feel Casey withholding the pressure, the way a big man might do if he was suddenly holding a three-week-old kitten.

“I’m okay,” Chuck said, only fibbing a little. His fingers grasped Casey’s shoulders, his lips momentarily pressing to his, needing deeper penetration. That mouth was as warm as the rest of him. “You’re not going to break me, you know?”

“I can try.” Smirking, Casey buried his face in Chuck’s neck, lips ghosting along his throat, his jaw brushing. “Still like this?”

“Mmm.” Chuck closed his eyes and automatically angled his head to the side, giving him better access to the sensitive skin there. He couldn’t explain why this gave him a sudden reaction, he only knew that Casey could get one without barely trying.

“There?” Taking the hint, Casey’s lips explored the curve of his neck, skimming over the curls at the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t the only part of his body taking advantage of the kid’s willingness. Casey’s leg, sprawled over his, shifted upward and pressed in towards his upper thigh.

Oh, okay. That leg didn’t stop at his upper thigh. They probably shouldn’t be doing this, but maybe Ellie was busy somewhere else in the house. Devon seemed to have taken a liking to her. Maybe they were talking Doctor-y things in the parlor -

And, yes, that leg was definitely rubbing. Chuck let out a little sound when Casey then added to the temptation by nibbling his earlobe with the edge of his teeth. This time, one hand did go up and under the shirt, rucking it up along the way to find a nipple.

“Oh ... Wow,” the kid breathed, shivered. It would seem Casey remembered that little move with edge of his fingernail. “God, did I miss this.”

“Know what I miss, Bartowski?” He scraped again.

“Ah. N-not ... not really.”

There was an unexpected pause. “My guns,” Casey said.

Chuck’s eyes sprung open. “Your, ah – what?”

“You heard me.” When Casey drew back, he didn’t sound nearly as amused as he had when he was biting the kid’s ear. “I distinctly remember leaving my holster on that chair over there,” and he tipped his head without breaking eye contact, “and now I don’t see it. Know anything about that?”

Uh-oh.

Chuck would’ve moved a prudent distance away if he wasn’t pretty much wearing Casey at the moment.

“Um, well, it will make more sense if you think about it, Casey.” Chuck looked up at the searing gaze and decided this would be the time to talk fast. “Ellie hates guns, okay? And even from the little bit of interaction I saw last night between the two of you, I think I can go out on a limb and say she hasn’t quite warmed up to your charm.”

Casey grunted his acknowledgement and indifference at the same time.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Chuck said, careful, since he was in the middle of trying to squirm out from under him. “So, here’s the thing, sweetie – oh, does that still bother you? Anyway, I thought it might be practical to at least keep the guns out of sight until we, ah, figure out how you can –”

“For fuck sakes, don’t say charm –“

“Okay ... well, get her to see the ... snuggly part of you?”

Casey pulled at the shirt with a grunt and bit down – lightly – on one pec. “I’m going to keep going, kid, until you tell me where they are ....” He proved it by putting his hips against the kid’s leg, letting him feel his denim-covered cock was already semirigid.

One part of him wanted to tell Casey how little of a threat that was, but logic seized hold. “Right underneath my side of the bed,” Chuck babbled. “Hey, ow! Why did you do that?”

After Casey ducked his head and nipped at his stomach, he let his hand drift over to pinch a nipple. “Because you need to be taught it’s never a good idea to touch my guns,” he answered. The growl was playful, however, and something tightened Chuck’s belly. “How in the hell did you even get over there to get them?”

“I – ah – hobbled?” Chuck offered up, smiling again. “I never knew you could sleep so soundly while getting your precious guns filched.”

“And I never knew you liked getting your ass tapped as much as you must for touching them in the first place.” When Casey eyed him from head to toe, more than a little lasciviously, Chuck felt the flush start somewhere in his core. “Though you did seem to enjoy it that first time ... once you got over the shock.”

“Jerk,” Chuck muttered. Lying on his back, he put a hand over his forehead, palm up. “It wasn’t ... quite like that. And what do you mean by first time? Like there’ll be another.”

“You’d like it, too,” Casey said. “If that blush means anything.”

“Not blushing.” Chuck just gave him a look before turning his head away.

“Really.” Casey chuckled and tightened his grip on one shoulder to hold the kid to the mattress. “Let’s test that,” he said, and the other hand took liberties by easing downward in a slow circular motion. Casey’s stomach muscles rubbed hard against him, and it wasn’t an accident that the hard flesh found his cock through the flimsy cotton pajamas. “Looks like I found a weak spot, pancake.”

Chuck groaned low in his throat as the friction made his cock jump, the resistance turning into a slow rub of movement right back into him. One more budge – oh, right there – and Casey’s arousal was pressed to the side of his. “If you keep doing that – ah – I won’t be able to feel that leg anymore -”

“Hey, I brought breakfast for you,” a voice said right outside the door. “Wait. Did you say you can’t feel your leg?” The feet plowed to a halt. “Chuck?”

Chuck swung his head around. Then he froze guiltily. “Uh, hi, Ellie.”

Ellie’s eyes had widened, as the men weren’t in a hurry to separate their bodies. “You seem to be feeling a little better.”

“Um, m-maybe?” Chuck stammered.

“Oh, hell,” he heard Casey breathe.

Two things kept him from getting out of this sticky situation. One, his leg on the right side was the injured one, so there was no hopping out of bed. Two, half of his body was covered by a very firm, muscly blanket and he had no hope of squirming out of that.

“Mr. Casey,” Ellie spoke, completely at a loss for a moment. “I – I can’t believe it seems necessary to remind you that just yesterday, my brother nearly died! Now you’re –”

“Ellie, it’s not what you think,” Chuck interrupted. He had on his purest smile as he gave his boyfriend a little push. The only thing that accomplished was to earn him a glare, so he wisely decided to redirect his efforts at something he might be able to control. Like Ellie buying their story. “I dropped my pills. They- they accidently went down my shirt – clumsy of me, huh – and Casey was just trying to help me find the last one down there, when his hand got tangled in the – ah –”

“Chuck, I do have eyes.” Ellie cleared her throat and set down the plate of food. One plate, and it didn’t take a mathematical genius to guess who was left out of that equation. Picking up a different bottle of pills that Chuck didn’t even want to know about, she paused to look at Casey. “Please get off my baby brother.” Her voice had gone subartic.

“Ellie, listen, sis, I wasn’t exactly trying to -”

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes tracked up and down over Casey. “Chuck, tell your – whatever he is to get a shirt on.”

“Ever hear of knocking?” Casey asked, but he did roll to the side, landing on his back to scowl up at the ceiling. “This place is like a damn train station at noon.”

“I didn’t think I needed to knock.”

“Well, surprise.” Reaching over, Casey found an undershirt and sat up to yank it a bit disgustedly over his head. “Guess I’ll be getting dressed now.”

“And Chuck?” Ellie grimaced. “You might want to pull your shirt down.”

“Oh, ah, sure – how did that – um....” Chuck decided it was best to just shut up at this point, so he dipped his head and tugged the shirt down to cover his bare chest. Something caught his eye. Something that looked like teeth marks.

Ellie stared at it with concern. “What’s that? Another bruise?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Chuck said. Dang you, Casey. “I was just telling Casey what a – a great job you and Devon did on my leg.”

As the kid maneuvered to sit up in a hurry, he glanced up at Ellie and winced. Evidently she could recognize a bite mark when she saw one. “Was he trying to get a closer look?” she asked grimly. “Because his hand was nowhere near your leg.”

“I – there was this –”

“How do you feel?” Before Chuck could say fine, she laid the back of her hand on his forehead. “Your fever’s back. Are you hot? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Chuck listened to Casey grinding his teeth. “Of course not. Ellie, here’s the thing: we should probably ... you know, talk at some point. In private? A lot has happened to me in the past year and half.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the way to Boston. Are you hungry?” Ellie tilted her head to look at him, her expression balanced between concern for her patient and annoyance with the man next to him. “Why don’t you eat, and then I’ll check the bandages.”

Chuck wanted to clean his ears out, but he was too busy taking the fork she had thrust at him. When he dared to glance over at Casey, it confirmed Casey had heard the same thing. “Boston?”

“I hope eggs and oatmeal are okay. I think you should start with something easy on your stomach.” She scoffed. “And not your boyfriend.”

“Ellie, I –”

“Here, give me the fork,” Ellie said, and she swiped it back. “You’re probably too weak to hold that. I can feed you.”

“Gimme that.” Before Ellie could steer the eggs to Chuck’s lips – and no way in heck did he open his mouth for her – Casey grabbed the fork from her. “If there’s anyone taking care of him, it’s me.”

“Because you’ve done such a bang up job so far, Mr. Casey?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Open up.” Ignoring her, Casey brought the fork to Chuck’s mouth.

Chuck snapped his lips shut and backed up in the bed, shaking his head back and forth. He really hoped the ‘no way’ and ‘are you crazy?!’ look could penetrate stone.

Casey squinted at the reaction. “Now what?”

Only when he was certain he wouldn’t get eggs shoved down his throat did Chuck finally open his mouth. “Okay, then,” he said, blinking from one stubborn face to the other, “this might be a surprise to both of you, but I was shot in the leg. The l-e-g. So, the funny thing about that is my arms work fine. And my hands. See?” The kid took a moment to flex them, managing to make even that sarcastic. “I’m quite capable of feeding my – gmph.”

“Chew,” Casey said, pulling the fork back.

Chuck did, but not without giving him the stink-eye. After he swallowed, he held out his hand. “Give me the fork, John.”

It was a moment before Casey handed it over, and the way the mutters increased let him know that his lover thought one of them was being just too pigheaded for his own good. Chuck didn’t point out the irony.

“I still can’t get over that you’re here,” Ellie said out of the blue, ruffling his hair before she hastily wiped her eyes. “I thought I had lost you for good. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Well, are we going to have that talk in private ... soon?” Chuck asked. He scooped up some eggs to show he was capable of eating on his own, though he could feel Casey watching him like a hawk. “I really do need to ... tell you some things about my current arrangements –”

“Oh, I know what you need. The painkillers. You said you ... dropped them.” This resulted in another evil-eye to the man in bed next to Chuck. “As soon as you’re done with breakfast, I’ll -”

“He’s not going to Boston,” Casey said plainly. He rose to his feet and folded his arms over his broad chest. That was a gutsy move, the kid thought, knowing his sister all too well.

The challenge wasn’t lost on her. Ellie arched a brow and put her hands on her hips. “Oh?”

“Uh-oh,” Chuck said under his breath.

“Unless, of course, he says he wants to go to Boston,” Casey went on. “He’s a big boy now and can make his own decisions.”

“Hey, um, guys, maybe we should –”

“Of course not the city.” Ellie said.

“What?” Chuck put in.

“Outside of Boston with our Aunt Clara,” Ellie told him. “She’s going to take care of you until I can figure out how to smooth things over –”

“Why the hell would he go there?” Casey asked. Put so eloquently, it would seem he had given up on manners and withholding the curses around his sister.

“Ellie, do you want to come find me when you two have this hashed out?”

“Maybe in the part of the world you’re from,” Ellie broke in as if Chuck hadn’t spoken, “it’s acceptable for an ... unattached person to just up and leave with another ... unattached person, but in civilized society, Mr. Casey, it’s not suitable for a young man to abandon his family, and then return to his dignified life with –”

“So you were just blowing smoke up my ass when you said you didn’t have an issue with your brother’s – what did you call them?” Casey snorted as his eyes swept over the kid. “Tendencies. Mighty polite of you, Miss.”

Did Casey just call Ellie a liar? Chuck gawked at him and ventured a look at his sister. Yep. She took it that way, too.

“It was the truth when I said I’ve long ago accepted who my brother is.” Ellie lifted her chin. “What I was going to say is ... with a man like you.”

“Oh, boy.” Chuck scrubbed a hand down his face. He had been watching the two interact with a wariness most people reserved for being stuck in a cage with two angry bears. “You know, this might be a good time for me to try and go downstairs,” he said and wobbled as he started to get up.

“Sit,” they both said and then exchanged an even harder stare.

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Chuck grumbled, plopping down.

“Undoubtedly, you had your way with him at one time,” Ellie said, adding under her breath with great discomfort, “Defiling my little brother.”

“Trust me. It was more than once, sister.”

“Oh, crap,” Chuck whispered.

“And spare me the tone that it wasn’t consensual,” Casey said gruffly, “because let me swear to you, it sure as hell was.”

Speechless, Chuck put a fist on his forehead and groaned.

Ellie’s assessing gaze landed on her brother, and she suddenly had to clear her throat. “He can’t be with you.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna explain why.” Casey didn’t look too eager to hear it.

“Maybe you’ve noticed,” Ellie said, holding up a finger, “but people can be intolerant asses when it comes to men being together.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what people think.”

“Well, perhaps you should.” Ellie frowned as she picked up a clean cloth and dipped it in the hot water. “Where we come from, these ... situations are handled quietly. With a little discretion. You can’t just take my baby brother out from under my nose and do what you please to him -”

“Sitting right here, you know.” Chuck raised his hand defensively, which was also ignored.

“And that’s why he’ll go stay with our Aunt Clara at her farm in Worcester County for a few months,” Ellie announced, wetting the cloth. “It’s perfect. Far enough from the city to give him some privacy. When people ask, I’ll simply say that Chuck had the whooping cough -”

“Which sounds more deadly than liking men,” Casey muttered, “yet acceptable, huh?”

“And he needed fresh air to regain his health. No one will be the wiser.” She wrung out the rag forcefully, maybe wishing it was Casey’s neck. “That’s how little improprieties are handled in polite society, Mr. Casey. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky.” Casey rolled his eyes.

“Because normally, a shotgun wedding at the courthouse is in order when a man takes advantage of a, well, person not as,” and she paused with sarcasm to choose the word, “worldly as yourself.”

Casey mulled that over with pursed lips before he cocked one brow at the kid. “You pregnant?”

Chuck choked on nothing but air. “Wh-what?”

“Your sister’s talking shotgun wedding, so I have to ask.”

“Glad you find my brother’s violation humorous.” Ellie’s voice was lined with steel. Annoyed, unrelenting steel. After another pointed look at Casey, she tapped the kid’s leg. “Let’s take a look, Chuck. Lift up so that I can take the bandage off.”

“Wait. Defile? Hang on, I am not pregnant,” Chuck stammered. He was so boggled he let Ellie poke at the bandage without wincing. “Again, not possible. And I am talking to a doctor, right?”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least,” Casey said. He leaned down, bracing his hands on the mattress and stared hard into Chuck’s eyes. “Because if you were, I’d have to kick someone’s ass – starting with yours.”

“More humor?” Ellie asked. “At a time like this?”

“Just clearing the air, doctor.” Casey gave a smart ass tip of his head towards Chuck. “I think we can give your little brother a clean bill of health when it comes to being in the family way. So there’s no reason to stow him away at your auntie’s farm.”

“And can you please stop mocking my arrangements for my brother? It’s been settled. Chuck will be ready to travel in a few days. Unless you plan on getting him shot again.”

“I actually prefer cats to children anyway,” Chuck broke in, mostly to himself since Ellie and Casey were locked in a staring match. “They’re just cleaner, don’t you think? Sure they can be demanding, but –”

“No one’s getting shot. I took care of those problems,” Casey said. “Your brother is going to be safe now.”

“I think I have the right to worry if – if my upstanding little brother is being buggered by a no-good outlaw -!”

“And there it is,” Chuck mumbled, burying his head in his hands.

He thought he heard Ellie put down the bandage, but it was the growl that emerged from between Casey’s teeth that took precedence. For the first time since he landed back at Devon’s, he was grateful for the safety of being the patient in this scenario.

“So he is incapable of choosing. Since you know what’s right for him, huh?” Casey asked.

“Mr. Casey,” Ellie said in a way that had Chuck lifting his head to witness the stand-off. “It would be wise if you left now. I’ll be the one protecting my brother from any continuing abuse.”

“Abuse? Okay, El, hang on, we really do need to talk -”

But it was Casey who cut him off this time. “Looks like your upstanding baby brother isn’t allowed to be happy unless it makes you happy, is that it?” His boyfriend started to shake his head as he strolled in a little closer, a power play move to make her look up. The kid kept his mouth shut on the matter. He wanted to hear this. “Or maybe he isn’t allowed to feel a certain way towards a man if you can’t feel that way.”

“That’s not ... true.”

“Well, newsflash, sister,” Casey continued in that low tone that was singeing Chuck’s insides, so he had no idea what it was doing to Ellie. “You’re never going to feel that way about me. In your head, it’s always going to look like I was the one who got him hurt ... or wrecked him. But if you don’t accept who he ... might just have feelings for, then you’ll be the one hurting him.”

“I would never do that.”

“Yeah? Maybe you’ll even drive him away eventually. Is that what you want?” Casey moseyed over to the foot of the bed and put one hand on his belt buckle. “All that talk about tolerance. Utter crap. It ends with me, doesn’t me?”

Chuck could see a battle taking place behind Ellie’s eyes, but the weariness and protectiveness won out over continuing the scrimmage with Casey. For now, anyway. “I – I can fix the bandage after you’re done eating,” she said, and she bent to wrap Chuck in a very careful hug. “I’ll go down and check with Devon. Maybe we can dig up more of that pain medication for you.”

“Thanks, El.” Chuck couldn’t hold back a nervous cough. The room’s temperature had dropped to freezing. “Then we can – ah – have that little talk.”

Ellie nibbled her bottom lip and started to leave without even a look at the large man looming in the center of the room. But as she got to the doorway, Casey’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“What kind of pain medication?” Casey asked.

Ellie just blinked at him. “What?”

“You said you were going to find something for him.” Casey nodded at Chuck. “I’d like to know what it is.”

Her face warred with the several emotions. Chuck half-expected her to tell him off or at least just turn and leave without answering, but instead she considered it and wrinkled her nose. “Morphine. Why?”

“I have something else in my bag. It’s in the workshop,” Casey answered with a nod. “Maybe you can get the Moron to make himself useful and bring it up.”

“Morgan,” Chuck corrected around a mouthful of eggs that he had begun to shove down. At least his appetite was back.

“Why should I trust you with anything?”

“Because I learned a little about doctoring myself along the way.” Casey let out a slow breath and turned away from her to add, “Let’s just say I had enough reasons to learn how to fix a bullet hole.”

“Um, it’s true, Ellie,” Chuck said. “Back in Colorado, I once fell out of a tree,” and the kid thought it prudent to leave out that Casey had shot up the tree at him, “and Casey gave me something .... Worked like a charm.”

Ellie waffled.

“Oh, ow ....” From the bed, Chuck touched his leg and looked up at her, flashed a wheedling smile, the one that usually got him extra pie when he was a foot shorter than his sister. “I could really, really use that pain medication right about now. It feels like it’s, ah, burning a little.”

“Sure, okay,” Ellie said, eyes already roving over the bruises on his face and down to his leg. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, sweetie.” She had spared one fleeting look at Casey over her shoulder before she disappeared, skirt swishing

Chuck watched her walk away. The instant she was out of sight, he let out a breath he had been holding and sagged back against the bed. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, you’ll be burning a little – in hell, for that lie,” Casey said.

“That was not a – a – okay, really?” Chuck brows drew lower. “Not to say it doesn’t still hurt, but how could you tell I was lying to get rid of her?”

“I’m pretty familiar with the concept.” Casey leaned forward again, placed a strong hand on the back of his neck and gave it a little massage. “What the hell was I thinking? Jesus, bringing you back here? I should’ve kidnapped you and the doctor – well, him temporarily - when I had the chance.”

Chuck squinted up at him, gauging seriousness. Damn, the flick in his eyes confirmed it. He really was in love with a crazy man. “Because me being kidnapped hasn’t happened enough in the past six months?”

Casey’s grip moved to the side of his jaw, brought his face up again to meet a pair of devilish blue eyes. “But it would’ve been the fun kind.”

“There’s a fun kind?” Chuck asked under his breath.

“Yeah.”

Chuck swallowed. Dodging his eyes to the doorway – no Ellie - he curled his fingers into the collar of Casey’s shirt, the lewd suggestion suddenly making him warm again. “Maybe we can make a break for it out the window. The two story drop will be problematic what with my leg and all, not to mention my sister probably guarding all entrances and exits, but ... oh, yeah, you’re a dead man if you even try it, buster.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable in that bed,” Casey said, moving his fingers up to slide them through the back of Chuck’s hair, “I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to get you out of here.”

Chuck used the hold on Casey’s shirt to guide him down, took his lips in a kiss that was firmer than he had intended. This only took Casey off-guard for a second or two, but he growled into the kid’s mouth and returned the pressure. Chuck squeezed his fingers tighter, pushing more insistently, his thumb then dropping in the V of Casey’s shirt to find hard, bare skin –

“Hey, guys, Ellie said you needed Casey’s pack for some – whoa, whoa –”

Both men jolted. The more annoyed-looking of the two shot a glare at the bearded man, while Chuck simply felt his cheeks turning bright red. “Oh, hey, hey there Morgan.”

“What’s going on, guys?” Morgan drew up short. “Bad timing?”

“Um.” Chuck’s head spun from Morgan to Casey and back to Morgan. “Casey fell.”

“I did, eh?” Casey twisted to give an accusing look.

“On you?” Morgan asked.

“Yep. Who knew he was so clumsy, huh? I mean look at him.” Chuck vaguely waved a hand over the least clumsy man in the world. “You would never think someone with that many muscles couldn’t ah, walk in a straight line. But you see ... he tripped. Yep, so, I had to catch him –”

“With your lips,” Morgan noted. “Nice catch, dude. Just don’t let your sister see it. She’s seems a bit, oh, I don’t know. Uptight? Oh, she’s a hot piece of calico, don’t get me wrong. But she’s on the warpath. That’s all I’m saying.”

“My sister is what now?”

“But look at you two! “ Morgan broke in with a grin, waving his hands in the air happily. “Already clawing and scratching at each other like farm animals on the first day of spring. I mean, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

Casey growled without moving his lips, which Chuck would find a truly impressive feat when he gave it some thought later.

“Dude, something tells me you’re feeling better.” Morgan, maybe not realizing the danger he was in, strode over to Casey and elbowed him in the waist. “Go easy on my friend, though. You don’t want to tear something open, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Casey told him.

Chuck translated that and quickly found the need to get rid of Morgan. “Did you bring Casey’s bag?” It was draped over his friend’s shoulder, but it might distract Casey long enough not to use Morgan’s arm as a stick to stir clothes in the wash pot.

“Yep, right here.” Morgan patted it. “Where do you want it?”

“Here,” Casey answered. He swiped the strap off the smaller man’s shoulder, and with a hand on his forehead, shoved him backwards out the door in the same motion. The last of Morgan that Chuck saw before the door slammed in his face was the bearded man massaging his abused forehead.

“Was that really necessary?” Chuck asked.

“You’ll want to finish your breakfast first and then take a leak before the medicine kicks in.”

Chuck gave Casey a sour look, but he was too busy to notice since he was measuring out powder from a tin. “I seem to recall a moment ago a very nice speech on tolerance. Let’s see, how did it go? I think it was something along the lines of calling out my sister on being a hypocrite -”

“I didn’t say the word hypocrite –”

“Nice distinction, John. Oh, and didn’t you say that she needed to accept you for who you are?” Chuck leaned back and took another scoop of the eggs. They were cold now, but he chewed like he enjoyed them to make a point. “Funny how that doesn’t apply to accepting my friend for the way he is.”

“Moronic?”

“Case in point.”

Casey growled again, just a small silent noise. It still contained enough annoyance for the kid to know he had made a direct hit. “You do realize that idiot –”

“Mor-gan.”

“- Just barged in here and broke up what could’ve been a quick -”

“Not on your life. Besides, who saved yours – with a slingshot?”

“Little blabbermouth.” Casey scowled at the door.

“And who just said he was being judged?”

Casey took his time sealing up the tin and putting it back in his satchel. “Fine,” he mumbled at last. “I’ll go easier on the little dwa -”

“Ahem.”

“Morgan.” Casey pushed his fingertips against his closed eyelids briefly. “Happy now?”

“Immensely.” Chuck let out a long breath and crooked his finger at him. “Then come here. I wasn’t done catching you.”

Once Casey neared the bed, Chuck took hold of the front of his shirt again, clenched, and pulled him down to get those warm lips back on his. They grazed his mouth, teasing, making the kid’s fingers convulse in the cotton fabric he held. Alone, finally. It was a flimsy illusion, he knew. Ellie was only in the kitchen with Devon and could emerge from downstairs any moment.

Chuck felt a stirring in his lower belly, a need to draw Casey back down next to him on the mattress, but the larger man moved to go for his throat, the hollow of his collarbone, before pulling back. “Take this.”

“Hm?” Chuck was still blinking at him.

“Here.” In Casey’s hand was a powder that he then sprinkled over the remainder of the eggs and oatmeal. “You’ll feel better. Then ... I can figure out a way to spring you from your cell.”

“Good luck.” Chuck looked at the plate, then the white powdery substance – and wrinkled his nose. “Hey, wait a minute. I recognize that stuff. You said it was ....”

“Willow bark. So?”

“So?” Chuck responded by backing further into his stack of pillows behind him. “The last time you gave me that, I woke up on a train to St. Louis.”

“But it didn’t hurt, did it?”

Chuck knew it was petulant to cross his arms and sulk on the pillows, but there didn’t seem to be much stopping him. A minute ago they were kissing, and now Casey was going to knock him out, apparently. “A train, Casey. With my bags packed and nothing but a note in my pocket!”

“What’s your point?” Casey asked, almost looking perturbed. “It saved you a lot of trouble, didn’t it?”

“Saved me – are you -?” Chuck gaped at his boyfriend’s logic. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“And you’re missing out on the chance to take a good, long nap without your sister bugging the shit out of you. Here. Eat.”

“No. I’m not tired.”

“Eat it anyway.” Casey’s look finished the sentence: or I will make you.

“Besides, I feel -”

“Don’t feed me some bullshit that you’re fine.” Casey set down the plate and sighed. “Hell, kid. That might work with your sister, but you look like something the barber’s cat dragged in.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Okay, look at this logically for a minute.” Casey picked up a strange pill bottle from the night table and rolled his eyes. “As long as you’re hurting, your sister is going to hate me even more every time she lays eyes on you. That means we’ve got to get you healthy.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Casey rubbed a thumb along Chuck’s stubbly cheek, peering intently as he caressed him. If that didn’t give it away, the smirk did. “There might be other reasons, but you’re sure as hell not ready for any of those, either, muffin.”

Chuck bit down playfully at his finger and even got brave enough to loop his tongue once, but no dice. He couldn’t get Casey to forget those reasons. “Okay, okay.” Giving up, he put his head back and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m still a terrible liar.”

“Good.”

“And I guess, to be honest, I feel like I went ten rounds in a pugilistic training gym. As the punching bag.”

“You did,” Casey replied, a little bitterness in his tone. He lightly pressed on Chuck’s shoulder. It was surprisingly gentle, much like his voice when he sat on the bed to run a hand down the kid’s arm. “You get the rest you need, and when you wake up, I’ll ...” and he paused to look towards the window, “have a plan on how we can get out of here together. If ... that’s what you want.”

“You have to ask?”

“Well, it has been a rough week,” Casey said, looking off to the side. “Don’t know if anything made you change your mind.”

Chuck tilted his head at him. “God, what am I going to do with you?”

“Hm?”

Chuck’s hand closed over his wrist, held it in the air, his fingers straightening to meet him palm to palm. “Just because you’re good at burying things, you don’t think I see them.” Then slowly, the kid eased both their hands back down to the front of his own shirt, over his heart, as he shifted to pull Casey’s body right up next to his.

“What are you doing?” Casey asked, low and wary.

“Let me,” Chuck murmured. “Just let me show you. The truth is here ... I love you. See? That wasn’t so hard.” Moving quickly, before Casey could open his mouth and kill him by not being able to say the same, the kid pressed a finger over his boyfriend’s lips. “Don’t say it ... don’t tell me that you can’t. I know it already.” And damn, now he had to look away to blink back the heat behind his eyes. He let his hand drop. “Why is it so hard to believe that I love you?”

Casey didn’t reply, but Chuck didn’t expect him to. He bent forward and held him, pressing the kid’s face against his neck and nuzzling his hair. Chuck had a suspicion the move was meant to accomplish hiding his face as much as anything, but he just leaned into that hard, comforting body and felt his muscles unwind. “Never do know when to just shut up, do you?” he heard Casey mumble with no malice against his ear.

Chuck took that as a signal it was safe to lift his head. With no more encouragement, he grabbed the plate of food, eyed his fork, and, then resigned, began to eat. “I do trust you to figure this out ... and a nap does sound pretty good.”

Casey put his hand on Chuck’s shoulder blade, his fingers casually rubbing the fine line of bone where he could reach bare skin before the undershirt impeded his progress. His touch was often demanding, but when all that strength was channeled into being gentle and firm, stroking over his shoulders and arms, digging into muscles, sweeping circles and kneading ... it elicited a little moan that had nothing to do with the bland food.

“Like that, do you?”

“Mmm. Always good with your hands,” Chuck said, and he leaned back to enjoy it. “Will you be here when I wake up, or should I be worried?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, brown eyes. Or a certain filly with a little piss and vinegar in her bloodstream.” Casey didn’t laugh. Just kept kneading his neck, his shoulders, making sure that his reassuring touch would be the last thing Chuck would feel before he fell asleep.

Chuck smiled wearily and shut his eyes. He wasn’t going to be the one to break the news to Casey. He’d never found the man who could beat out the one and only Eleanor Faye once she set her teeth in him.

-x-

By the time the kid unglued his eyelids to see the late day sunshine glimmering behind the thin bedroom curtains, he could actual feel his boyfriend’s watchful presence in the room.

When he opened them a little further, he saw that Casey was true to his word.

No more leaving in the night. No more running. No more crazy journeys that take them almost a continent apart. Nothing with the added bonus of near death thrown in just for the fun of it.

That feeling of utter sleepy elation lasted about the time it took for Chuck to crack one eye open all the way and really study him.

What the hell?

He was a lot less confident and put together when he got an eyeful of his partner sitting in the chair next to the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of his face. The look of irritation Casey was trying to hide should’ve tipped the kid off.

Chuck wiped the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Hi ... um, how long have you been sitting there?”

“Well, sitting might be a stretch, considering how your sister tore me a new one,” Casey grumbled.

“I don’t ... what?”

Casey gave a half-shrug. “Let’s just say we had our little talk.”

“I’m going hate myself for asking,” Chuck said, levering himself up on his elbows a little clumsily. Man, that painkiller was wicked stuff. The room was warm and still swirling nicely. “But what did you talk about with my sister?”

Casey gave him a look. “Sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I was until about one minute ago.” Chuck wasn’t sure what was going on, but he motioned up and down Casey’s body. “What’s up with the coat and hat ... and guns?”

“I always wear my coat and hat when I head out.” Casey then slanted a disgruntled look at him. “And the guns ... well, I shouldn’t have to explain that.”

Chuck, feeling the need to somehow make sense of this, sat up in bed and took Casey by a belt loop on his jeans. “This would be one of those times when I need fewer grunts and more words.”

“I have some business to attend to.” Casey kept his gaze trained off him, and the kid noticed his hand tensed.

“Business? What precisely did you – you did not just say leaving – oh.” Chuck’s shoulders met the pillows as Casey nudged him back into them. He’d have complained about the manhandling, but Casey settled onto the mattress and immediately pressed up against him along his right side, one hand moving up to thread through his messy sleep-mussed curls. All discomfort on the planet ceased. “What are you doing?”

Casey leaned over him and kissed him on the neck, breathing in and out. At the last moment, he angled away from a kiss on the lips and spoke into his ear. “I told you I’m not leaving again,” he said, “and I won’t ... like that, anyway.”

Chuck forced his brain back on, trying to focus on something beyond every single point of contact between his body and Casey’s – and there were a lot of points of contact. He had a hard time focusing between the scent of Casey’s skin, cool and woodsy, and the hand trailing down to his waist now. “What did you mean, then?”

“Best way to think of it is a few last strings to wrap up.”

“But ... where are you going?”

Casey got up on one elbow, looking down at him. “I’ll be sticking close to town.”

“That’s vague.”

“That’s all you’re getting, Bartowski. Suck it up, stay in bed, and get better.” Casey laid a hand on his upper thigh beneath the bandage, arresting him in mid-retort. Chuck stared at the long fingers lying tense on the line of muscle, awfully close to his groin. “I can see you’re on your way to healing. You’ll need your precious energy soon enough, brown eyes,” he added in a low voice and dropped a kiss on Chuck’s frown. “Be good until I get back.”

Chuck couldn’t help his stomach from tilting at the reference to being separated under questionable circumstances yet again. “What did my sister say to you?”

“She invited me to join her tomorrow evening at the hotel dining room.” Casey gave a little shrug of undisguised sarcasm. “Thought we’d top off the festivities with a stroll down the pier and skip stones off the waves. We agreed it’d be a goddamn swell way to get to know each other better.”

“Soooo,” Chuck drawled. “It went that well, huh?”

“Yeah, about that well,” Casey offered vaguely. “Two minutes of hearing why I had to stay away from you, trying to keep it logical, when her other hand almost held the shovel she would use to bury me in a shallow grave if I didn’t comply.”

“Hm. Well, at least you’re still alive?”

“Heh. I’ll handle your sister. You worry about getting back on your feet again.” He sat up, ruffled the kid’s hair. “So we can have some fun being off of them again, eh?”

“Glad you’re making some progress getting over your shyness.” Chuck grinned up at him. “That kind of modesty just doesn’t look good on you.”

“Get some rest.” Casey sounded both exasperated yet determined when he took hold of one kneecap to give it a little squeeze. “You’ll need it.”

“When will you be back?”

“Two days. Expect me in the evening.”

“Two days?” Chuck echoed, taking hold of Casey’s sleeve as the larger man rose from the bed. “Have you forgotten the matter of my father?”

“What about him?”

“What if he gave up on finding the you-know-what and decided to make a grab for the only other, ah, copy of that particular handy-dandy book.” Chuck raised a hand to his still aching temple. “The one that’s in here? I know Devon keeps a gun in the house, but what if my father calls in his cronies? Then what?”

“Relax.”

“How?”

Casey grabbed the sides of his face to ensure he looked at him, and once he had the kid blinking up at him, a short yet very warm kiss ensured he was really paying attention. “I called in my team,” he said.

“Team?” Chuck asked, licking his lips.

Without looking past his shoulder or breaking eye contact with Chuck, Casey tipped his head towards the doorway. “Yeah. Them.”

Two figures appeared on cue in the doorway, one looking thrilled, the other mildly bored. Chuck decided it was best to keep his eyes on the one holding the rifle.

“I think you’ll be safe until tomorrow,” Casey finished.

Chuck couldn’t help but both roll his eyes and smile. “Impressive. Even the slingshot, Morgan.”

“He told you, didn’t he?” Morgan asked, holding it in the air with the reverence of Excalibur. “How I saved his life with this little puppy right here!?”

Chuck yanked the covers up and leaned back. “I think there may have been a few details left out.”

“Eh.”

“That’s ‘thank you’ in Grizzly Bear vernacular,” Chuck filled in quickly, waving a hand in Casey’s direction. “I would say welcome to Team Bartowski, but I guess you’re already honorary members.”

“Looks like I’m back on duty to watch over that sweet little ass of yours, kid,” Sabine said as she meandered into the room, and gave a lewd once over down the kid’s legs. She winked when she got the blush she was after. “Still have the adorable smile I could sell for a fortune, oui?”

“Well, that happy thought aside, at least these two will grunt a little less,” Chuck said, adjusting the blanket over his bare leg.

Casey made one of those noises, once, proving it, followed by a look over his posse that said they could clear out for a minute. Even Morgan got the hint, though he did give Casey a salute that the larger man clearly ignored before turning to the door.

When they were gone, his boyfriend leaned forward then, caught Chuck’s lips before he could draw back. He kissed him hard and deeply, his hand gripping the back of Chuck’s neck so he couldn’t move. His fingers slid up into his hair, just a passing stroke that had Chuck torn between a self-conscious hunching in case they were still being watched and a wrenching in his gut for more of that mouth. He was gasping when Casey pulled back. Their faces were close, the kid’s vision still dominated by blue eyes.

“I have something for you,” Casey said, and when he took his hand from his pocket, something caught the last of the golden rays slanting through the window. The walls around the bedroom gleamed and sparked as it swung in front of the kid’s eyes.

“How – how in the heck did you get that?” Chuck looked it over, surprised, and turned his gaze up to find Casey studying his reaction with narrowed eyes. “I thought it was ... gone.”

Casey just lifted a shoulder, but it was obvious to Chuck his lover was gratified. “When I went into that river, I didn’t expect that I was going in for two things I thought I had lost.”

Chuck took the casing in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the familiar etching of the pocket watch. “Hm. Four fifteen. It will need to be fixed.”

“I can afford it now,” Casey said.

Chuck rolled it around in his fingers and laughed. “The golden fish. I guess I did catch it.”

“What?”

“When I was ... at the bottom, I saw a fish – so I grabbed it,” he said, clearing his throat of the rust that had suddenly pooled there. “I had no idea ... I just knew to get it before the current carried it away.”

His nerves rippled when a pair of hands slid over his shoulders, cupped. So close, Chuck inhaled Casey’s rich scent, which was the reason he held on all in itself. “Only one of those things I was willing to die for ....”

The way Casey’s blue eyes lingered on him gave Chuck both the terrifying vision of what might’ve happened and the simmering heat of the door that had opened because it didn’t. Casey dropped his hand on the mattress. It landed on top of Chuck’s, gripped firmly. His thumb stroked the side of his smallest finger, just a teasing caress.

“You keep your ass in this bed and I’ll be back soon,” Casey said, slipping his hat on his head. “I can promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

x-End Chapter Twenty-one Where the Road Ends-x-


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

-x-

The whir of the golden pendulum, chopping the parlor’s silence in half, was irritating as all get out, but better than the alternative. Dead stillness only brought disquieting thoughts, Chuck knew. That was the last thing he needed rolling around in his head.

Settling back in the rocking chair, Chuck closed his eyes briefly to rub his eyelids. He had done everything - reading, marking up a few recent designs in his leather notebooks, even drinking black tea Ellie had foisted upon him – but not a damn one of those things made the clock over the fireplace move any faster.

“Let me ask you something,” Morgan said, resting one elbow on the mantle. “With all of the bolt-hole saloons in all of Kiowa County, couldn’t you have found a boyfriend a little less surly than that one?”

“He’s not ... that surly.” Chuck looked up from the dime novel he was pretending to read, a contemplative frown on his face. “Casey’s just a little ... hard-nosed when he sets his mind to something.”

“Which happens to be the very definition of surly,” Morgan said. “Oh, hey. I should tell you something. Moping doesn’t suit you, buddy.”

“I’m reading.”

“That’s interesting. You’ve been on that page for forty-three minutes.”

Chuck nearly dropped the flimsy paper novel, he lowered it so fast. “You’re spying on me?”

“Yep. Though, I have to say, I’m not enjoying it as much as I thought I would,” Morgan said, holding up his own dime novel. He deliberately made his smile of the smart ass variety. “I mean, Tousey did such great work with Old King Brady and the James Gang, but this ..?” Morgan shook his head dramatically as he closed the thin book and tucked it into his vest. “It’s disappointing, a bit, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes I hate you,” Chuck muttered, sitting back and purposely stretching out his long legs. First, though, he maturely stuck his tongue out at him.

“Hey, easy, easy, I’m not saying I blame you.” Morgan slanted a look over to check the doorway, listening for Ellie’s footsteps. “Listen, man, if I had that kind of prime meat stalking around here for me, gnashing his teeth, growling for his lost chance to steal you away to his secret love cave, heck, I’d be moping too!”

“First. Shh!,” Chuck blurted, feeling himself become more horrified at every word. “And second ....” He gave his friend a puzzled look. “You never told me you like men.”

“Nah, not like that.” Morgan grinned and waved that off like no big deal. “I’m just saying, man, I get it, I get it. I know why you’re watching the door. I mean if I were into cowboys, he’d be the kind of guy that would -”

“Kill you for even having this conversation?”

“Um, right, right ....” Morgan sheepishly smoothed a hand over his vest. “But hey, I see the magnetism, okay? Let’s just say I know why you’ve got the hankering for a big -”

“Please, Morgan. You can stop.”

“Hey, I was going to say pair of arms.”

“Oh, God.” Chuck gave a sigh, obviously disgusted with himself for being as readable as always. “And again, this is not moping. See? It’s reading.”

“Sure it is. Oh, listen. If it means anything, you look good, dude. Much better. Presentable, even.”

“Was this supposed to be a pep talk?”

“Of course, man. First rule of friendship. When the heart is used for target practice, be there to tie up the pieces. Or in this case, plug the proverbial bullet holes. Man, he has a lot of guns, hm?”

Chuck’s frown was one dangerously small half-step from a pout. “This really isn’t helping, little buddy.”

“You don’t suppose he had a run-in with the law?”

“And on that happy note, I’m feeling a little worn out,” Chuck lied. He closed the novel and faked a yawn. “Can you wake me up if anyone comes to the door?”

“Hey, you know I’m messing with you.” Morgan elbowed him. “He’s going to be back. Trust me, a herd of wild mustangs couldn’t keep that guy from you.”

“Well, I’m rooting for the mustangs,” said a voice from the kitchen doorway.

Chuck’s head spun towards Ellie, who was making a beeline to him. “Um, hey, El.”

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t be sitting. Do you need to go back to bed? Here, let me help you.”

“Whoa, sis.” Chuck put his hands up defensively as she reached for his elbow. “I’m good. Can we, uh, talk over coffee a little later – oof.”

Ellie bent down to swoop her arms around his midsection almost hard enough to tip the chair back. As it was, he had to steady the rocker with a hand on the side table to remain upright, and then wrapped his other hand around her. She smelled like the rose soap Devon used, the undercurrent of smoke from the potbelly stove mingling with a faint, flowery perfume. It immediately reminded him how much he missed her, and that alone made heat build up at the backs of his eyes, so he squeezed them shut and held on.

“Ellie .... I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears were falling unhindered again. She had been pretty much a fountain since he woke up two days ago. “I still can’t believe we found you,” she said. Eventually, Ellie broke off the hug. “You never told me. Why on earth did you run away like that? Where is this place – Kiowa? Do you know how long it’s been –”

“A year and a half, almost to the day,” Chuck finished. The trickle of guilt was like a nice little dagger. It sent his stomach on a slow roll towards his knees. “I know. But I - I can’t tell you why.”

“Why didn’t you send a letter? Or a - a telegram?”

“I couldn’t.” I couldn’t let him find me. “Honestly, El. I would’ve in a heartbeat, but ... it’s complicated, and I really shouldn’t talk about it, but I’m back now, okay? You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. My life has changed so much – and you know what? Maybe we should talk about that?” Chuck set the novel down. “You see, Casey and I are -”

“Did you want your tea?”

“Tea?”

“Here.” Ellie hastily wiped her eyes as she plucked the cup from the side table and handed it to him. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the train to Boston. You need to get your strength back. How are you feeling?”

“All right ... I guess. Can we talk before this purported trip to Boston? Maybe get out of the house and go have dinner or something so that we can sort this out?”

“Sure. After all, you’ll need new clothes.”

Chuck looked down at himself. The blue jeans he had grown accustomed to wearing since living in Kiowa were a bit worn, but clean at least. The cotton shirt wasn’t quite white anymore, but it was soft and not starchy. “To go out to dinner?”

“No, for the train ride, of course,” Ellie said without looking at him. “Trousers, a jacket or two. Something a little more dignified for my handsome baby brother?” She touched his cheek and gave him one of those tight smiles that had become commonplace ever since she had met John Casey. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun, El?” Chuck shook his head, though he wanted to petulantly kick the rug in front of him with a bare foot. “I’ve been gone for a while, but the fact that I hate going to shops and a tailor hasn’t changed. Jeans and chambray are, well, comfortable.”

“But you look like –”

“Like me, sis.” Chuck went quiet for a minute, pressing his lips together as he moved forward in his seat, taking her hand. “There are other things about me we should talk about, too, okay? I mean, I know you may not approve of my ... choice, but –”

“I want to respect your choice, Chuck. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

Chuck blinked. “You ... will?”

“Yes.” Ellie ruffled his hair in that almost condescending way. “It’s obvious you don’t want to work in one of father’s offices. You want to work with your hands. I understand. I kind of had a hunch all along that being in a stuffy boardroom wasn’t your idea of how you wanted to spend your life.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes, squinting to see if this was a bad joke, but his sister seemed serious. “That’s not exactly where I was going with this –”

“I’ll speak to dad when we return,” Ellie barreled on, “and maybe he can find a position at -”

“John saved my life.” Chuck finally just said it. “Four times.”

“Was that before or after you got that nice bullet hole in your leg?”

“Ellie. Look at me. You don’t know the circumstances.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the train.”

“Why am I getting on a train?”

“I’ve got it handled, Chuck. When Devon wakes up, we’ll examine the wound. He said you’ll be able to travel in a few days.”

“Here’s the thing, El.” Chuck looked up at her. Ellie’s face showed all of the relief yet pinched up concern around him; it was too bright and too strong, but of course he had to get this out of the way. “What if I don’t want to go?”

Ellie tilted her head to look at him, her expression absolutely unchanging. “You’ll be fine, sweetie.” Before he could press the matter further, she squeezed his hand far too tightly. “Once we get back home, you’ll forget about ... all of this.” Forget about John Casey, she wanted to say.

“But I’m not –” Chuck’s protest was cut off by what he had come to think of as a Spontaneous Hug Moment. It wasn’t a coincidence that they always seemed to strike the second he was going to put his big foot down. “Gah, okay, El ...”

After what he thought was a fair amount of time to let her stall – and squeeze the air out of his lungs, yep, that, too - he gradually unwound himself from her hold and sat back in the chair, put a hand on her arm. “Ellie, we need to talk.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Ellie crossed the room to the stairway. “I have to go check on Devon. He wanted to be woken up at –”

Before Chuck could stop her, there was a brisk bump at the door. He jolted in his seat and whacked the teacup with his elbow. In fact, the only one who didn’t jolt was the woman who barged into the room from the kitchen while the knock still echoed.

“Get back,” Sabine mouthed to the three of them, motioning with a quick tip of her head. She moved swiftly as a hungry cat to stand next to the window with her rifle raised dead ahead. “Not a word out of you.”

“Hoooly crap, did you see that?” Morgan asked, looking at her in awe. “Man, that woman is -”

“Shh!” Chuck whispered. Like the rest of them, the kid listened but there was silence. When he glanced over to check on Morgan, he saw his friend had produced a slingshot from somewhere and had it aimed at the door. Chuck wanted to point out the bullet would get to the intruder first, but the kid decided now was not the time to get picky.

Sabine pressed her body up against the wall and carefully began to edge her head towards the window frame.

“Who – who is it –?” Chuck hissed.

“Shh!” Sabine hissed back at him. “You really can’t follow simple instructions, can you?”

Chuck gave her the stink-eye. But movement to the left brought his attention to his sister. Every part of him seemed to jump when he saw she had snapped up her own weapon from the bookshelf and was holding it aloft over her head. It only wobbled a little.

“What are you doing with that?” The medical textbook had to weigh a good twenty pounds, Chuck figured.

“I’m going to wallop whoever walks through that door,” Ellie replied sharply.

“With ‘Clinical Memoirs of Phrenology’? That’s a little rude, don’t you think?”

“No one’s getting through that door to hurt you.” She gave a testy head jerk to the other woman. “Sabine, open the door.”

“Can you two shut up?” Sabine asked, staring directly at Chuck. “Pretty please?”

Chuck managed to nod, though he was suddenly shaky and drenched with sweat. Great. Who knew being kidnapped and nearly killed for the – what, third time? – would lead straight to another panic attack with just a knock on the door? “Y-yeah, okay. We’ll just sit here and let you shoot someone – but only if you need to, please.”

Sabine rolled her eyes and gestured with her rifle for the three of them to stay put. The woman had no idea how intimidating that was, and someday Chuck should point that out to her when she wasn’t holding Miss Molly.

Without another word, Sabine used the very tip of her barrel to pull the curtain to the side. “Oh ... mon dieu ....” she breathed after a moment. “Ce que le baiser?’

“Who is it?” Thankfully, Morgan was the one to ask this time, keeping Chuck out of trouble.

Sabine ignored that. All eyes were on her as she moved the rifle tip and lifted the pleated gingham back a bit more. Chuck braced himself, expecting the snap of bullets he’d been waiting for since the knock on the door.

But Sabine looked far too calm, a face he remembered when he was caught gaping straight down her barrel the night he barged into her garden in St. Louis. He almost felt sorry for whoever was out there.

At last she lowered the rifle. Shaking her head in disbelief, she looked over at Chuck. “You might want to get the door yourself this time,” she said, “though I’m not so sure it won’t bring a certain kind of trouble.”

“Who’s out there?” Ellie laid a firm hand on Chuck’s arm, but if that was meant to stop him from climbing out of the rocking chair, well, good luck with that. “Is my brother in danger?”

“Oh, more than you’ll ever know,” Sabine chuckled under her breath for Chuck’s benefit. “Better hop to it, kid.”

Only one thing would make her smile like that.

“Casey ..?” Chuck breathed it and gasped it at the same time he surged to his feet. Ouch. Bad idea. Slowly, he reminded himself. The last thing he wanted was to stumble or fall flat on his face to get to the door. Besides, his injured leg had other ideas, so he was forced to take it slow no matter how badly he wanted to tear the door open to either kiss his boyfriend or yell at Casey for scaring the living crap out of him one more time.

“Don’t open it,” he heard Ellie say the second he reached for the doorknob.

Well, too late.

Chuck exhaled the tension from his body, swung the door wide open, and did what any self-respecting, worried sick boyfriend would do.

He gave John Casey his blankest look possible and lifted one brow. “Oh. Hello. May I help you, sir?” His accent was ‘English Lord of the Manor.’ It was quite terrible, actually, but he hadn’t time to practice.

This only took Casey off his game for a second or two. Casey’s mildly startled look evaporated like steam, gradually replaced by his usual stoic confidence and a layer of something Chuck recognized as dirty mischievousness.

Uh-oh.

A discreet squeeze to Chuck’s waist confirmed that suspicion. Casey leaned into him with that big body and whispered, low, warm breath in his curls, “Yeah, you can help. I heard I can find wicked men and stiff booze here. Though if it were the other way around, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Er – stiff – what?”

Casey’s eyes darkened and became a little dangerous. “Or perhaps you can help me with that, long legs.”

“Um ....” Chuck licked his chapped lips and turned red all the way to the tips of his ears. “You win,” he mumbled out the side of his mouth. “I will never try to out-tease you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try, muffin,” Casey said, slightly tipping his new wool hat in victory.

That motion, just that quirk, drew the kid’s eyes over his boyfriend. And holy God, why had it taken him this long to notice? It brought his attention over Casey’s charcoal grey jacket, black trousers, before roaming back up to the white shirt peeking out of the coat’s velvet collar.

It hurt Chuck like a physical ache not to touch him. But he stayed stock still, two men standing too close for politeness and an audience behind the kid’s back on a sunny, late October evening. There was nothing but the kick of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the wide oak spanning over the yard, the sound of his breath, oddly loud, and Casey’s. Being so close, he could see every fine detail of every feature, his chiseled jaw, his lips slightly parted. His eyes, though. They had a jagged pattern in the aqua blue, like a broken window, shattered and so clear now -

“What a pleasant surprise,” he heard Ellie say, dripping with sarcasm.

Ellie was watching. He should step away. Right now. But instead, Chuck fought not to shuffle closer, to crowd up into that body of muscle. He wanted to put his hands on either shoulder, and just dig his fingertips into his shirt, to know if his flesh felt as hard and as good as he remembered.

Embarrassingly, the kid could his see his own reaction putting a small smirk on Casey’s lips, but his boyfriend looked so beautiful and steady and present he couldn’t help it. “I’ll try this again,” Chuck said. “Hi there.”

“You’re out of bed,” Casey observed, bracing one hand on the kid’s hip. “Sight for sore eyes, pancake.”

Chuck grinned and rose on his toes. “Seems I’m much tougher than people think.”

“Not possible,” Casey responded, moving his hand up to slide his fingers into the kid’s thick hair before he looked into the room at the audience, remembered himself and pulled back. “Took good care of him for me,” he said to them. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Because you’ve done so well up until now,” Ellie said, stepping forward.

Casey eyed her before turning to face the kid. “Chuck,” he said, quiet urgency leaking into his voice. With one word, they leaned into each other, like some force of nature was pulling them close. Casey’s expression hadn’t changed, but his shoulders rose and fell, as though his breath had also picked up.

The kid was feeling somewhat breathless himself, actually.

“Y-yes?” He didn’t move or pull back. He wasn’t even sure that inexplicable force would let him.

“You’re going to have to decide,” Casey said, his eyes locked on his in a way that was significant, “exactly what you want.”

It should’ve been obvious, just as he had all along, which made it an odd thing to say. Chuck almost squinted at him, at first wondering what he meant by that. The slight tilt of Casey’s head, the fact that his eyes were hot on his, burning, it all seemed telling. The kid opened his mouth to question Casey’s motive, but belatedly realized Casey was pinpointing the minute Chuck would have to put an end to Ellie’s blocking tactics and publicly inform her he had made a choice that she would have to live with. Maybe not accept, ever, but live with.

“Oh right,” he said, blinking away his confusion. “I guess I should turn around now and – are they watching us?”

Casey’s eyes darted past the kid’s shoulder, and the smirk broadened. “You might say we have your sister’s attention,” he whispered against Chuck’s temple. “And considering what I’m about to do, I hope that book she was holding isn’t loaded.”

“I’d be ready to duck, buster.” Chuck spun around to face Ellie. “Hey, look who’s back? It’s Casey.” Avoiding the stares, he turned to Casey again, feeling idiotic as he stammered, “You look ... well, really good.”

“I thought you knew you couldn’t stay here, Mr. Casey. My brother is still recovering from his run in with your ... associates.” Ellie turned around to Sabine and Morgan, standing off to the side and obviously trying to stay clear of the confrontation. “Can you help me get Chuck back upstairs?”

“No.” Where on earth had that come from?! At first, Chuck nearly jolted at hearing his own voice. He had never spoken to his sister quite that adamantly. When the others turned to look, he ran a hand through his hair and braced himself to go on. “What I mean, Ellie, is that I’m not going to hide ... and I’m not going back to Boston.”

“But Chuck –”

“Sis, I’m sorry, but there’s a lot you don’t know –”

“What I do know is that Mr. Casey seems to be trying to impress me with new clothes and a bath, but it’s not going to cover up who he is or what he’s done.”

“Ellie –”

“No, Chuck,” she interrupted, folding one arm over her flowered blue shirt, the other hand resting at her throat. “I’m afraid I have to ask Mr. Casey to leave.”

“But he can’t, El – you see -”

“Sounds like a damn fine plan to me,” Casey said without breaking eye contact with her.

Chuck actually gaped at Casey. His boyfriend didn’t move, however, staying rooted in the doorway. “Casey? You’re leaving? Again?”

“Yeah,” he said, and Chuck felt strong, sure fingers slide along his waist. “And you’re coming with me.”

“I am?”

“He is?” Ellie caught herself. “I mean – no, he’s not.”

Casey flicked one single, searing look to the side, straight at the kid. His eyes covered every feature, and when they lingered on Chuck’s lips, the kid felt saliva gather in his mouth. “What do you want?” Casey asked.

He couldn’t help it, he swallowed. Without realizing it, Chuck shifted closer to him, the slide of Casey’s body against his drawing him in. “I think you know,” he mumbled.

Satisfied with the instinctual reaction, Casey’s fingers closed over his wrist, and Chuck could feel his desire to tug him up to his chest, take control of him intimately. “It’s all up to you, kid.”

“Casey, I don’t get it. What?”

“Are you up for a good kidnapping, brown eyes?” he asked, barely audible as he brushed a few locks of hair away from Chuck’s ear. “That’s what I promised you, wasn’t it?”

“I thought we were ... still negotiating?” Chuck whispered.

“Heh.”

“It’s not polite to have secrets, Mr. Casey,” Ellie announced, pissed off beyond all reasoning that she couldn’t overhear them. “Maybe you have something to share?”

“I’m not much for sharing.” Casey’s fingers tightened infinitesimally on Chuck’s wrist. “Let’s go.”

But Chuck didn’t move. “Let’s ... go?” Just like that? What the hell? With Ellie ordering him to stay?

He had to listen to her.

Didn’t he?

When Chuck hesitated to say something, Casey reached around him, his hand hidden, to settle a big palm on his waist. The movement put his body right up to Chuck’s. He could smell the day on him: pear soap, dust from the road, and the ever-present underlying woodsy musk from his skin.

Kidnapping? Oh, that was playing dirty. Very dirty.

Chuck’s eyes cut up, met his, and he rounded on his sister. “Um, here’s the thing, El. I’m leaving – with, ah, Casey. So, I’ll see you later. Promise!” Not quite knowing what else to do, he gave a little wave at her stunned face and began to turn back to his boyfriend. “We’ll be back ... well, in a few hours or so.”

“Leaving?” Ellie’s mouth fell open a little, but she recovered quickly. “You – you can’t even walk.”

He imagined if he looked over at Casey, he’d see a sexy grin, so he tried to avoid that until they got outside. “Sure I can, sis. See? Watch me walk.” Chuck proved it by only swaying a little as he hobbled back and forth across the rug, stiffly and babying his bad thigh. Blood oozing would only set her off. “There. Ta Da. Okay, bye!”

He gave her a bolstering, nervous smile and started to turn -

“I forbid you to leave with that outlaw, Chuck.”

She froze him on the spot. Though Ellie wouldn’t realize it, she’d given him the best possible opening for the conversation he intended to have with his sister later tonight. What he wanted to do with his life, what Casey had done to win his trust and later his heart. That he was willing to do everything required to love the other man for a lifetime of ups and downs, good times and bad.

Chuck’s world seemed to right itself, giving him a calm peace. He stepped forward until Ellie had to tip her head up to meet his eyes.

“No, El,” he said. “I can’t do what you’re asking me to do.”

As Ellie’s expression changed, he pressed on. “I’m not choosing one or the other here. Honestly, I’m choosing ... both of you. And I know you have problems with it - with Casey, actually, but you have to know something: you’re both in my life now, and I don’t plan on giving up either of you.” He scrubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side to gather his words. “So I think you two need to figure out how to make room for each other, because I won’t accept anything less – from either of you.”

Casey remained quiet, though if Chuck really tilted his ear, he might’ve caught a slight growl from his lover’s chest.

Eventually, Ellie straightened and looked over to Morgan and Sabine for support, but seeing nothing but two smiles, she turned her gaze back on him. “Go have dinner at Beaulieu Grande – and talk.” She shot an icy look at Casey that said, ‘just that,’ and Chuck got the suspicion that she would be checking him over for love bites when he walked through that door. “Three hours. I want you back here in one piece.”

“Damn,” he heard Casey mutter. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had a curfew.”

“Beaulieu Grande?” Once Chuck crossed the room to return to Casey’s side, impatient as hell to take his hand, he peered down to assess his own appearance. “I need shoes.”

“Can’t even be considered optional where we’re headed.”

“Oh? But wow. I look terrible.”

“You look good enough to eat,” Casey assured him in one of those warm rumbles against his cheek. “The warden has spoken. Let’s go.”

Chuck didn’t dare look at him as he rubbed a sweaty hand down his jeans. “It, ah – might take longer than that, El.”

“Then stay here.”

“No, I think I need ... uh, fresh air,” Chuck responded and gave her a little smile. “I’ll be fine.” When he reached over, he wasn’t surprised at all that Casey intercepted him, gripping his wrist again. Casey held firm and tugged him, strength pitted against the symbolic hold of his sister until Chuck subsided, his eyes still on Ellie’s. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Ellie snorted.

“No, it’s true. We’ll just ... have a nice chat and dinner.”

“Heh. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Casey breathed hotly against Chuck’s jaw. “I’ve made plans.”

Chuck fought a blush at the way Casey’s voice had dropped to gravel at the end of that. “So, bye. Love you, sis!”

“But when will you be back - wait!”

There was no waiting, just a tug on his wrist that sent the kid flying out the door, half-dragged and half-carried by his somewhat eager boyfriend. They last thing Chuck saw was Casey grabbing the door with his other hand in order to close it in Ellie’s face.

Okay, it was more like a harsh shutting. Definitely close to a slam.

“Goddammit, kid,” Casey grumbled, not turning around as he continued to tow him by the wrist. “Didn’t think I’d get out with my man parts intact. It’s like she knows what’s gonna happen when I get you alone tonight.”

“She can hear you!” Chuck tried to wrench free, but Casey suddenly rolled them to a halt next to a buggy parked ten feet outside the doorway. “Hey, where’d that come from?”

“I bought it. Figured you’d be in no condition to ride.” Casey kissed the bewildered look off Chuck’s face and then winked. “Not a horse anyway.”

“We’re not going to dinner, are we?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Casey said, and his grip slid to his other wrist, just caressing the pulse. “How’s your leg, pancake?”

“Good – better, I guess. Wait. You bought this?”

“No, I stole it.” Casey rolled his eyes as his hands came down to Chuck’s waist, fingers gently yet firmly digging in. “Hold still.”

“What? Why – oh.” Chuck knew what was coming but it was too late. He squirmed, but no amount of wriggling could loosen his boyfriend’s grip. “They’re watching us –”

“Then stop fighting me.”

And in the next half second, Chuck felt himself boosted up to the seat and deposited before he could argue why he wasn’t helpless. Straightening his shirt, he looked up petulantly as Casey followed him onto the bench and scooted over to make room. “I am over six feet tall, you know.”

“Can be as ornery as a six year old, too.”

“Well, you could stop picking me up.”

“Not as much fun that way,” Casey told him. “Ready for your kidnapping?”

Chuck’s brows drew down. Disconcertingly, he also felt a stirring in his lower belly and didn’t even want to think what that was all about. “Were you serious about that?”

“Yep. Hi ya, Vic,” Casey said and flicked the reins. “Move it, before Ellie recovers from shock.”

“Or borrows Sabine’s rifle,” Chuck pointed out, and wary, he angled around in the seat to see if the door would swing open. “Have you thought about that?”

“Probably shoots like a girl.”

“Like Sabine?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Where are we going?”

Casey’s face gave away nothing, save for the tiniest smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

“I normally hate your surprises,” Chuck said, smiling as he automatically slid a hand on Casey’s knee when they hit a particularly large bump. His hand retreated a few seconds later since there were people on the street for an evening stroll. What would they think, seeing two men sitting this close on a bench seat? Touching?

“What’s the problem with my surprises?” Casey asked, glancing down at Chuck’s hand. Evidently, he noticed how the kid had felt the need to pull away.

“Well, I usually end up either blindfolded or tied to a headboard.”

“Still not seeing the problem,” Casey said, and he slanted a look to the side to enjoy the blush he had worked out of him. “In fact, seems I remember a time or two that you –”

“Ah, hi, Mrs. Pembroke,” Chuck said loudly, waving at their neighbor. At the same time he drove a discreet elbow into Casey’s ribcage. “Lovely evening we’re having tonight!” After Casey took the hint to tip his hat as they passed, Chuck pasted on a smile and spoke out the corner of his mouth, “Now about this surprise ....”

“Trust me, kid. This one, you might like.”

-x-

For the umpteenth time, Chuck rubbed a hand over his own knee and resisted the urge to put it where he wanted to. Only because once he touched Casey’s lower thigh, his hand might have other ideas, and they were still in public.

He continued to catch long looks at him whenever he could. Nothing improper about that. To have Casey back still felt strange, and his entire body tingled from the proximity, though he had to admit, he had visions of waking up alone in his bedroom at Devon’s and all of this being a crazy dream. Because of that, he kept his shoulder brushing Casey’s coat, needing the reassurance and solidity. His presence filled him, and with each clop of Vic’s hooves taking the buggy somewhere, the shock was wearing off.

Chuck looked over in time to see the hotel disappear to the right. Leaning into Casey, his fingers briefly slid over his trousers, making Casey trade a glance with him. “Aren’t you going to turn around?” the kid asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You went right by the hotel.”

“Because you assumed we were going back to my room?” Casey turned, pretending to look affronted. “Rather forward of you, kid. What do you think is going to happen here? This is a proper date, not a quick roll in the hay.”

“Amazing how you can say that with a straight face,” Chuck said, giving his boyfriend’s leg another little squeeze out of sight. Damn, hard as a rock, just like he remembered. “The corner of your mouth is twitching a little, though, I have to say.”

“You’re getting smarter.” Casey raised an amused eyebrow at him and flipped the reins, pressing Vic to pick up the pace. “Or more of a smart ass.”

“So, really, why didn’t we stop?”

“Seems like someone who’s been kidnapped as many times as you have, cupcake, would recognize the process pretty early on, eh?”

Chuck squinted up the road, confused, before he turned to Casey. “You really aren’t pulling my leg, are you?”

“Nope. Though other parts might be up for grabs.”

“Funny. Well, I hope this one doesn’t end with the same bucket of sunshine as the last kidnapping,” Chuck said, wondering why his stomach was gradually tying itself into a series of rather intricate knots. Part of the reason was back at the house, he supposed, but part of the reason was what lay up ahead. And unsurprisingly yet awkwardly, the tightening was a bit lower than his stomach when he thought about that kind of surprise.

“You okay?” Casey asked.

Chuck snapped to attention and turned his head so the brilliant blue eyes were close enough to make him dizzy. His body instinctively moved closer into Casey’s long, large frame sitting next to him. Why not? They were gradually leaving town, it seemed. Fewer sets of eyes to give possibly accusatory gazes in their direction. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just .... What are we going to do about Ellie?”

Casey huffed. “I have a plan.”

“You have a plan,” Chuck repeated slowly, looking disbelieving, because, well, this was Ellie they talking about. “Okay, is this the point where I tell you I’m worried?”

“Why the hell are you worried? I’m the one she wants to dissect alive and then throw out the pertinent bits to the hogs out back.”

“Hope not.” Chuck checked side to side before he waggled his brows. “I have plans for your pertinent bits.”

“My pertinent bits are wondering why you didn’t warn me about your sister.”

“I didn’t realize your pertinent bits could be that pensive.”

Casey snorted.

“How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t, ah, take to your charms as easily as I did?”

Casey gave a mild grunt at that, but didn’t glare at Chuck. “Well, I’m sure this is going to seal the deal with her.”

“Stealing me away from under her nose? Returning me maybe a bit more ruffled than when you found me? Why, yes, I believe she’s counting out cartridges right now. Or sharpening a knife.” Chuck tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “She’s probably better with knives. You know, being a doctor and all?”

Casey grunted again.

“And yep, I do regret bringing it up.” Chuck waved a hand around, gesturing at the white picket fences in front of the houses scattered on the outskirts of town. “But have you thought about how you’re going to stop her from taking me to Boston? I can’t go back there.”

“The only thing you need to focus your brain on is getting your damn leg working again.”

“I believe that’s Casey-speak for ‘I was worried – and I’m going to baby you until you’re well again.’” Chuck smiled and ignored the slight throb for once to focus on the man dressed in a jacket that accentuated his chest and arms, now pressed up against him. “Good thing I’ve seen what’s under the -”

“Suit?”

“I was going to say crusty surface.”

“I was going to let you take it off.”

“I meant suit. Suit. You did hear that, didn’t you?”

“Nice recovery, brown eyes,” Casey said, biting back a grin. “Now hold on. The road’s gonna get a little bumpy out here.”

Settling a little into Chuck’s side, he steered Vic off the main road to a two-track path that went in the direction of the shoreline. Chuck saw how the tobacco fields gradually rolled into a sandy knoll covered in winding, twisting vines with skittering plovers hopping in and out of their glossy leaves. Generally, he avoided the area after Devon told him how his buggy’s wheels got lodged in the sand while visiting patients who lived on the Inner Banks.

Not that Chuck ever had a reason to come out here.

“I need an answer from you,” Casey said out of the blue, and when he turned to him, Chuck was startled to see his boyfriend was now serious about something. “Do you blame me for this, kid?”

“Wh-what?”

After a heavy silence, Casey shrugged. “I guess I’m asking you about all of this. I want to know the truth. Do you blame me?”

“Casey, look at me,” Chuck said. When the larger man didn’t comply, the kid first looked both ways to make sure the road was empty, and turned his lover’s face towards him. The sea they were approaching to the east had nothing on those eyes, so Chuck took a moment to watch them before he smiled. “I don’t blame you. None of this was your fault.”

Through his fingertips, he could feel Casey’s jaw clench.

Chuck held on. “Crazy things happened, starting with the thing ... I was born with in my head, okay? Let’s just blame my dad, or Liam, or heck, fate for all of that,” he lowered his breath to add, “since I don’t want this to be a night of pointing fingers.”

“Then next question. Do I belong with you?”

Chuck swallowed and briefly had to look down at his feet. “If you won’t say it, then it’s for me to say, though I don’t know why since you’re afraid of nothing else ... but that. Well, I say I do belong with you.” He swallowed again and said, “To you.”

Casey gave him one long, searching look before he took a breath and caught Chuck’s wrist, stopping the kid in the act of taking his hand from Casey’s chin. Dipping his head, he made Chuck meet the blue depths of his gaze again. And a moment later, he forced him to meet a set of warm lips, though on second thought, force had nothing to do with it. The kiss was a big risk, though, out in the open like this, even if they seemed to be the only buggy on the road leading out of town this evening.

Coming to his senses, Chuck jerked away, scooting over to put a few inches of decency between them. “We ... can’t.”

“That’s still hard for you, isn’t it? The idea of it. Us.”

“Of course not.”

Casey turned with that lifted brow again, just stared at him with that fierce expression.

“Okay, yes,” Chuck acknowledged, resigned to the fact he was in love with a handsome yet overly intuitive man. “But I’m not like you, remember? You’re John Casey. If anything tries to hurt you or judge you, you’ll just stomp it into the ground, right?”

Casey stayed still, waiting for him to finish.

“But that’s not me. I’ve always had to worry about what others might think. Or how I was going to keep a secret ... and not just the Cipher.”

“I know,” Casey finally admitted. His eyes traveled around the rolling dunes sloping to the east, sea oats swaying in a light breeze. “And that’s why we’re not going back to the hotel.”

-x-

After a good two miles, Chuck decided enough was enough. So sitting up, he put his hand on Casey’s knee, his long fingers stretched out, and left it there this time. They both were more comfortable now that the buggy was well outside of Beaufort and hadn’t passed another farmer or traveler along the road for a while.

As the wheels bumped over the sandy road, Chuck tried to keep the conversation light. He knew Casey had taken it as far as he wanted with his honest remarks about blame and belonging. He also knew the emotional intensity of what they had been through had his mind reeling. Even a man like Casey would have to feel a little raw from it, wouldn’t he? It would only make sense, but then again, Casey would never recognize the good chafing his insides must’ve taken.

Chuck sat up to catch a peek of the water between the dense knotweed thickets. Evening sunlight slanted over them, and the buggy cast a long shadow over the undulating dunes on the right. As he relaxed against his boyfriend, they talked about the past four months, the cities Casey had turned upside down searching for him, and Casey even asked about the progress Chuck had made on the flying machine.

“Do you remember the time back at the farm? When you told me I need to pull my head out of the textbook and observe the tip of hawk’s wings in flight?”

Casey tugged the reins to the side with one hand, veering Vic down a different path in the sand. “If I recall, you weren’t really paying attention to flying away by then.”

Chuck cleared his throat and dug his fingers into the meat of Casey’s thigh. “I was a little ... distracted, okay?”

“That’s what you call it, huh, long legs?”

“All right, if you’re done mocking me, let me just say that I think you were right. Did you notice the warp angle at the end of the wing’s frame?”

“I’ve been a bit distracted, too.” Casey shifted his attention to study the kid’s face, smiling when his eyes zeroed in on the wayward curls ruffling in the breeze. “I should’ve known you’d still be fiddling with it. But maybe I have to see if you got it right.”

Chuck stuck his tongue out at him.

“Tempting,” Casey said, placing his hand on Chuck’s, completely covering it with his own. “But save it, Bartowski. You’ll be giving that tongue a workout later.”

Chuck pretended to scowl but he did put the tongue away. “Maybe my sister was onto something when she said you lacked manners.”

“I said this kidnapping would be fun, hostage, not proper.” Casey tapped the kid’s knee and nodded up ahead. “Besides, we’re here.”

“We are? Where?” Abruptly, Chuck sat up taller as he surveyed the place where the buggy was headed. What the heck? The sandy path, for he could no longer call it a road, curved between two grassy dunes in an opening only wide enough for the horse and buggy. “What is this place?”

Casey slowed the horse and studied him in that intent way again. “Just what I promised you someday. That last day we spent at the farm. Look over there. Do you remember?”

Chuck opened his mouth to ask, but stopped. Looking out to the east, past the sea grasses dancing and whispering in the wind off the channel, a house came into view. The pitched roofline of the cottage was the only thing to break up the wide expanse of sky. It stood on thick pillars at least a dozen feet above the ground, the entire home clad in cedar shakes that had faded to a silvery grey.

“This ... is where we’re stopping?” Chuck pushed a hand through his hair and blinked hazily, trying to make sense of it. It was a rambling place, looked like it was here forever, like it belonged to the Inner Banks channel as much as the sand and swooping gulls. Granted, Chuck could see that it was in need of some work, but it was on a stretch of quiet beach with only one other house visible for what seemed to be miles. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?” When he turned with a quizzical look, he saw Casey hop down from the buggy’s bench. “This is our stop.”

“Aren’t these people going to be angry with us?” Chuck asked, hunching his shoulders a little. “You know, they seem to like their privacy.”

Casey, in the middle of unlatching Vic from the trace and harness, raised his head to first stare and then to roll his eyes at him. “Did they knock you in the head, too?”

“Wh-what?”

“Yeah, figures,” Casey replied. He strode around the front and ran a hand down Vic’s neck before he stopped at the side of Chuck’s seat. “Scoot your skinny ass over here and I’ll help you down.”

“Why are you getting out?”

Casey looked up at him with an assessing squint. “Kid, this is our stop.”

“At this house? Hey, is everything okay? Shouldn’t we head back?”

Casey rested one elbow on the bench seat and continued to stare up at him. Chuck didn’t miss the deep breath he took. “Well, I bought this place yesterday,” he admitted. “And I was kind of hoping you’d want to see it ... since it’s for us. It’s the home I promised you.”

-x-

After dropping that major bomb, Casey withdrew something politely from his pocket and asked Chuck to move over so that he could lift him down. But as he gestured for Chuck to scoot, he refused to answer any questions, simply told the kid he was going to carry him to the front door whether he liked it or not. Chuck had other ideas, ones that didn’t involve being hefted around like a rebellious toddler, and he stammered and slid backwards as far as he could.

“Shit, kid, you’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

“Do what now?” No. He really didn’t want to know.

Casey, falling back on the take-no-prisoners route, climbed up after him. “The hard way.”

“Wait a minute! You haven’t answered any of my questions! What about Boston? And the small matter of Ellie? What are we going to – hey!”

“Let’s go, cupcake,” Casey said, ending the babbling by dragging him by the belt loops over the seat. Jumping down, he then scooped him up in the powerful cradle of his arms. “You forget. Kidnapper rules are in effect.”

“Hey, gentle, gentle,” Chuck said, frowning as he took hold of Casey’s jacket right at the shoulder. Damn, he forgot just how strong his partner was. “I am capable of walking.”

“Do a knock up job of tripping and falling, too,” Casey pointed out, and his arms tightened. “You might wanna stop squirming before I drop you.”

“Was this supposed to be the fun part of the kidnapping?”

Something between a grunt and a snort was the only reply. Since Chuck had no idea how to stop him, he signaled his surrender by sagging against the warmth of his body, letting Casey carry him all the way across the sand to a weathered staircase that led up to an open wraparound porch.

“I can’t believe this ....” Chuck blinked up the stairs and then over to Casey. “You bought this? How?”

“You might remember, but I did fall into a little money recently,” Casey told him.

“But – we’re staying?” Chuck motioned with one hand back towards town. “Here. Beaufort, I mean.”

“Like it here, don’t you?” Casey stopped on a step near the top and waited for him to answer.

“Well, yes,” Chuck had to admit. “Beaufort is ... nice. Great actually. Devon’s been a good friend. And the workshop is finally the way I want it.”

“Then it looks like we’re staying.”

Chuck gave him a baffled look. “Just like that?”

“Mm. Watch your head.” As they reached the landing of the elevated porch, Casey turned their bodies sideways to avoid one of the posts and gingerly set him down on his feet. “Wasn’t that better than hobbling up the stairs?”

Chuck put his hands on the railing and just shook his head in shock. The unmistakable scent of the ocean, briny fish and salt air, filled his nostrils He pivoted around to catch sight of the channel and a narrow finger of land, the Outer Banks, and finally to the vastness of blue-green beyond. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something at the most inconvenient time tonight.” When the kid turned, Casey had unlocked the door and was letting it stand open. He nodded and gestured with one hand. “When you have this out your door, you don’t need a lot of space, but it has some anyway. You’ll have room for your ... books and things.”

Chuck looked first at him and then down the porch. It ran along the side of the house and turned to face the east, giving a view of the ocean. “Lead the way,” he said, feeling simply bewildered.

Casey tipped his head and stepped inside, disappearing. Chuck stole one more look all the way down to the sandy ground below and then followed him. “Wow ... this is ....” What words where there?

Chuck strolled right through a narrow galley kitchen to a doorway that led to the main open space, trying to take it all in. There wasn’t much furniture in the big living room except a blue sofa and dusty oak desk that had been left by the previous owners. The sitting room was open to the dining room, where a long, oak table sat next to a tall bookcase. It was a juxtaposition of cozy yet uncluttered, a place where he could breathe.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. I can see everything,” Chuck murmured, crossing the room to the windows. They gave a view on all three sides, up and down the beach and over the channel. Someone had obviously planned the layout, a way to watch the fishing boats casting their nets or sailboats skirting the edge of shore on a windy afternoon. There was a quiet to the house, as it waited to become a home again. Perhaps to the two men regarding each other steadily from opposite ends of the room. “My God ... Casey, how did you find this?”

Casey shrugged and sauntered over to him. “I told you I had some business to attend to. I asked around. When I stopped by the bank, I found out Mr. and Mrs. Boggs had to pack up and move to Charlotte with their son when Mr. Boggs became housebound. His sister was handling the arrangements to sell this place. So, I made an offer. A generous one.” Cocking his head, he studied the kid for a long moment. “Contingent on one thing, of course.”

“Um, should I be worried?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” Casey said, and the kid saw the anticipation of the impending evening activities simmering behind his lover’s eyes. “The contingency is that you have to like it, kid.”

Chuck pushed off from the dining table, ran a finger speculatively through the thick dust on the book shelf. “Well, I’m afraid you missed the mark, because I don’t like it.”

“... the hell?” Casey asked, raising a brow.

“Gotcha.” Chuck beamed a grin and walked over to stand in front of him before leaning in to lay a kiss on the curve of his jaw. “I love it, Casey. I can see us being happy here in a million ways. But I’ll make my home where you are, because ... well, you are my home.” He lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know any way to say it more clearly than that.”

“I do,” Casey suggested. Guiding Chuck’s body to his, Casey pressed him up against the table and wedged him between his legs, groin to groin. The pressure of his commanding physique molded over every available inch of Chuck’s as he kissed him, tasted him, and kept on kissing him until Chuck had to pull back for air.

“Wow. I missed ... this,” Chuck said.

“I know.” Since Casey had bent him slightly backwards over the table, Chuck had to look up to find his boyfriend examining him with a pair of amused eyes. “I’m going to go change out of this suit,” he said. “Damn thing itches in places I don’t even wanna think about.”

Chuck took hold of the lapel to stand up straight. “I can’t believe you put on a suit to try and impress my sister.”

“I put on a suit so that I could discuss business with Mrs. Pritchett regarding her brother’s property. So I guess you could say the suit was for you ... since I wanted to make sure that we could have a home together.”

Chuck took a second to look the new clothing up and down, more of an appreciation for what was in it. He shook his head to quell his wandering imagination. “But – okay, I hate to bring this up, but what about Ellie?”

Casey’s gaze traveled down Chuck’s body – also with a glint of appreciation, though the kid couldn’t fathom the reason why. “Nothing is going to make her approve of me,” he said. “I figured the only thing I can give her is the assurance that you’ll be safe ... maybe that I can keep you happy here.”

Chuck swallowed. “You’ve done that, Casey. I’m not going anywhere. I plan on staying.”

“Your sister will have something to say about that.”

“You heard me earlier, what I had to say to her, and I meant it. No one is going to force me to choose between two people I ... love.” Chuck had to pause there to clear his throat.

There. He said it. It just came easier to him, he reckoned.

The kid didn’t expect Casey to say anything, so when he looked over to see his boyfriend just staring at him, like he was trying to contain everything, Chuck finally had to reach out and touch him hesitantly, just above the elbow. “You’re my home now, John.”

Casey straightened, nodded stiffly at him, and Chuck thought that would be the end of it.

He was mistaken. Reaching out, Casey took his shirt to pull him into another kiss, coaxing his lips apart for a firm, open-mouthed press that was hot, possessive and immediately too hungry. Chuck put his hands on Casey’s upper arms, giving him the heat of his body right back. He didn’t know if this would be it, and he’d be more than willing to lose the clothes right here, but with the timing of the devil, Casey pulled back with a smile twisting his lips. “Not yet,” he muttered against Chuck’s mouth, even as he slid his hand between them, boldly cupping the kid’s stiffening erection in the purposeful press of their thighs. “I’ll be right back,” Casey said. “Why don’t you go outside on the porch and I’ll meet you there. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Wait. You weren’t kidding about dinner?”

“Can’t keep you too hungry, can I, pancake?”

“Are we having something I like?”

Casey smirked. “That doesn’t fit between two pieces of bread, kid.”

“I – I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Chuck flushed bright red at the quick picture that went through his mind. He picked up a book and read the spine, hoping that the movement would hide the blush. “Oh, look. Moby Dick. I, ah, - oh, God – I think I’ll go out and look at the view.” Then huffily putting the book down, he added under his breath, “And for the record, your seduction skills are a bit rusty.”

Casey moved into him from behind and pressed his lips to Chuck’s neck, finding the sweet curve of his nape. Lifting one hand, he curled his fingers into Chuck’s hair, tangling deeply in response. “Know what else is rusty, kid?”

“I’m afraid to ask.” Chuck wet his throat. God, he felt so damn good.

“That’s right. Seen so little action, the damn thing might fall off.” Casey kissed, tormenting the edge of his ear with his teeth while he caressed the smooth muscle of Chuck’s ribcage. Chuck closed his eyes and sighed. Nice. But the naughty part of Casey took over, positioning his bulge right up to the swell of one buttock. “Any ideas on how I can take care of that problem tonight?”

As his lips lowered to trace the vulnerable artery, Chuck cleared his throat. “Ah. I ... might have some ideas.”

“Really.” Casey moved his hips, a slow dragging stroke, rubbing his turgid cock against the back of Chuck’s jeans. It took everything not to push back. “Feel that? You’re trembling, kid. That’s never gonna change, is it?””

“I am?”

“You are.” Casey whispered it hoarsely. He wrapped his arms around Chuck from behind, pinning Chuck’s arms down to his sides, and pulled him even tighter against his body. His dick rubbed hard against him. Shit. Chuck went lax in his grip, and now he finally did give in to the urge to press back into him. Oh, right there.

But when Chuck expected to be physically turned around and thoroughly kissed, among other things that were gradually creeping into his brain, Casey surprised the heck out of him yet again. He kept his head down, forehead pressed to the back of Chuck’s crown, inhaling the scent of him as his fingers splayed over Chuck’s abdomen. “God, you feel so fucking good ....”

“And I ... didn’t think I was ever going to feel this again,” Chuck said.

Casey grunted, something Chuck interpreted as me, too, though he wouldn’t want to admit it. Then the thighs behind him shifted and Casey pulled back, taking the blast furnace of body heat and rippling muscles with him. Chuck started to turn to tell him he had permission to keep going – until he felt a firm slap delivered to his ass.

“Hey, ow,” Chuck said, even though it didn’t hurt.

“You keep doing that kid, and we won’t even make it to dinner,” Casey replied.

“Who? Me?” Chuck gaped and almost tripped, he spun around so fast.

“Hell, someone’s gotta show a little restraint.” Casey winked and turned towards a room that Chuck guessed was a bedroom. It stunned him that he could think of it as their bedroom. “Don’t start without me, kid.”

“That would be a little hard to do,” Chuck called after him.

“I was talking about the pot roast, brown eyes,” Casey called back from the bedroom.

“Jerk,” Chuck muttered, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be outside enjoying the view if you need me.”

“Oh, trust me. You’re not going anywhere,” he heard Casey say, snickering. “Kidnapping, remember? You’re all mine now, kid.”

Immediately, Chuck felt heat flood through him at the sound of that. He had to wonder if his boyfriend was just teasing him, or did Casey have plans that went beyond the promise to Ellie that he would return him in three hours? Rumpled but no worse for wear?

God, he hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Well, your prisoner is going out to, ah, go get some air,” Chuck called back to the bedroom. He ambled to the glass door that led to the wraparound porch, deciding he’d find out soon enough.

x-End Chapter Twenty-Two Where the Road Ends-x-


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Three

After Casey ditched the jacket and trousers for his more comfortable cotton shirt and jeans, he stopped in the kitchen at the potbelly stove to check on the roast. He had stoked the fire earlier in the evening before leaving to scoop up the kid, and if the heavenly scent coming from the oven meant anything, he only had to test the doneness with a fork. It fell apart, so next he invoked the cook’s prerogative by testing the taste of the meat.  
He groaned a little around a bite, stole another, and wiped his hands on a dishcloth. “Not too damn bad,” he admitted, glancing towards the doorway.

It was hunger – a deprivation of a different sort than the kind to be satisfied in the dining room – that eventually drove him out to the wraparound porch. Since Chuck could only be patient for so long before he got himself into trouble, Casey took only a second to smooth a hand down the front of his pale blue button-down, rolled the sleeves up his forearms a little, and strolled out onto deck.

Chuck, with his elbows on the railing and his back to him, either didn’t hear the door, was too engrossed with watching the ocean or lost in his thoughts, for he didn’t turn around.

So maybe he didn’t know he was showing off that tight little ass for him. With the urge to get his hands on his hostage again, Casey soundlessly sauntered up behind the kid and placed both hands on the railing on either side of his body.

Chuck was getting better at the whole concept of being captive. He only jumped a little.

“I swear I’m going to have you fitted for a bell around your neck one of these days,” Chuck said, just the beginnings of a crooked smile mingling with feigned annoyance. “Big sneak. Come here and look at the scenery.”

The kid tried to take his arm to pull him up next to him, but Casey didn’t budge. “I like the view from here a little better, pancake.”

Chuck turned his head to the side to give him a look. Casey was surprised the kid even had one of those looks but he did. “Like that can compete,” Chuck mumbled. His dark brown eyes traveled over Casey and he licked his bottom lip. “But ... um, you look ... really good,” he added. It sounded awkward as hell, and even Chuck ducked his head down a little.

Noting the nervous gestures, Casey smiled to himself. He hadn’t bothered to tuck in the shirt, and left a few buttons undone at both the top and bottom of it. The tendency to be loosely dressed was a habit he’d adopt over the next few days - hell, both of them would, since he was certain clothes would just get in the way soon enough.

He also had every intention of loosening Chuck’s lingering shyness, not that he wanted him to give it up all together. If he were being honest, it was a magnetic part of the attraction. But maybe the kid would come to see the benefit of staying shirtless and barefoot for a few days.

“I’d say it competes, brown eyes,” Casey told him, leaning into his backside. He liked that the kid was tall. It lined up the front of his jeans along Chuck’s smooth buttock instead of mid-back. It would keep him from having to bend his knees some when his need rose a little. “I’d much rather see what this is all about.”

“You’re saying that to get my clothes off,” the genius observed.

“Always were an intuitive little bastard.” Casey chuckled and gave him a small slap on the hip that joggled him a bit and got his attention. “But have you ...ever seen yourself from behind,” he murmured next to his ear, “wearing those jeans riding low on your hips while you’re working? Back at the farm? Or bending over ..?”

“I think the only way I could do that is if I had the cervical vertebrae of an owl.”

Casey scrubbed the side of his face. Great. Seduction 0, Geeks 10. This is why kids like Chuck end up virgins until they’re in their twenties or so. Focus, princess.

“All right, I’ll tell you, then.” Unable to resist, Casey bent to fasten his lips on the kid’s throat, just for a brief taste. “When you stop to bend over, they’re straining over that sweet, little curve ....” Casey’s fingers trailed there, and when the kid sucked in a breath, he felt his own balls draw up tight and hard from the provocative touch. “Maybe that hat pushed back on your head ....”

“Bandana,” Chuck said automatically.

“Excuse me.”

“I wear a bandana when I’m working.” Chuck smiled, demonstrated by flexing his right arm, making his bicep swell. Decent, not too puny. “Can’t have a hat falling off my head if I’m bent over and using the muscles.”

I’ll bend you over. “Do you wanna hear this or not?

“Continue.”

Casey narrowed his eyes at that tiny smile. “You’re still leaning down ....” and again his fingers traced the curve of muscle along Chuck’s backside, enjoying the way he felt the kid stiffen. “The sun’s setting, slanting in through your workshop window ... the glow is barely touching you, outlining your body. Heh. I can see the hint of sweat on your shoulders.”

“So I’m not wearing a shirt in this fantasy?”

“Then it wouldn’t be a fantasy,” Casey said, his hands smoothing over those shoulders, stopping to give a massage to the long tendon. When his fingers came up to graze Chuck’s jaw, he paused to caress his lips. He felt Chuck touch his thumb with the tip of his tongue before pulling back. Maybe he was getting ideas, but still too timid to turn around. And because Chuck hadn’t had the sense to sink back into him, Casey pressed forward into his jeans from behind and relished the vision of Chuck closing his eyes.

“What ... what else do you see?” Chuck asked with a hard swallow.

Casey deemed it as progress. “I see that he’s ... just a kid, dreaming, taking a break after a hard day, never realizing how ... damn breathtaking he is in that one perfect moment.”

Chuck turned his head to gauge seriousness, because even Casey had surprised himself by saying that aloud.

“Nothing breathtaking about me, unless you count my double-jointed kneecaps,” Chuck tried to joke.

“Shut the hell up,” Casey told him, smirking as he lowered his head to kiss his neck once more, his hand coming up to rub the center of Chuck’s back. The wiry body in his arms relaxed. They do fit together, somehow, and Casey nearly had him pinned when he lowered his voice to whisper against a few whacky curls at his ear. “Everything about him ... pretty as a fractious filly ....”

Chuck gave him one of those wary, self-conscious smiles and looked down. His lips parted, and Casey could hear the hesitation. “It took me a long time to stop resenting you,” he said out of the blue. “For shoving me on that train? For ... never coming back.”

Shit. Casey knew it was coming. Chuck was still trying to talk it out. He didn’t understand it wasn’t a night for hashing out the past. Hell, that would come, but not before they both woke up in warm, sweat-soaked sheets.

Well, this would take a little finesse and gentle coaxing, but it was the kind of work Casey found satisfying if it was done right. So ignoring the momentary unease by spreading his feet wider behind him, Casey slid his hand up and under Chuck’s shirt in front, and a hand splayed against his skin, making the kid hitch his breath a little as it skimmed across the sensitive flesh of his flat belly. “Something tells me this has nothing to do with being my hostage tonight ....”

“And something tells me you’re going to remind me of my ... position soon enough,” Chuck replied, giving a nervous chuckle as he took hold of Casey’s hand and slid it back up to his waist. “But I have to get this out before you, well ....”

“Torture you?” Casey filled in.

Chuck let out a long breath through his nose. It confirmed he still had a shitty sense of timing. He really did want to talk. “I was naïve that night.”

“Only that night, huh?”

“The last night at the farm? You did everything but come out and tell me we had to leave, but I insisted we stay ... and make a home together there.”

“Damn crazy is what you were,” Casey said as he moved his thigh a little to the left. Wanna follow my lead, kid?

“Um, when – when I woke up on that train ... I was mad as hell at you for weeks.” Chuck moved backwards a few inches and turned his head around to look at him, finally, his dark eyes getting that intent focus that made Casey want to skip the dinner he had planned. The kid then reached out to touch his arm, brushing his hand back and forth, and somehow Chuck made his skin tingle under his fingers. “But in the end, you kept your promise. So what I’m saying is that I’m good now.” There were a few long moments where Chuck looked out over the water before meeting his eyes. “This is home now. With you.”

Casey looked at Chuck, the open book of his expression showing nothing but plain honesty. “Home ... never mattered to me.” Until tonight.

“No?”

“Nah.” Casey picked up a seashell that was sitting on the porch railing, something collected from the previous owner, and gave it a little toss out onto the sand. “I always thought it was just a place to stop and rest your bones. Sleep in a real bed for one night. Maybe a few family knickknacks on a shelf. None of it means a damn thing.”

“It has nothing to do with those things.” Chuck started to turn, but Casey clamped his forearms down to keep him in place, not letting him pivot around. He couldn’t have those brown eyes sizing him up right now. “Fine,” the kid huffed, “but I think you learned that a home is really only a place ... to be with a man you want to protect ... and love.” Reaching down, Chuck scooped up one of Casey’s hands and brushed his lips over the knuckles. “That’s the man standing right behind me.”

Casey stopped breathing long enough for his hand to slide into his, the warm skin supple and smooth. Forever, he’d be here, too, if he had a damn thing to say about it.

The porch enclosed them in a hushed silence for a minute, shutting out the sounds, save for the water lapping the sand. The world was comfortable for once, Casey reckoned. After a minute of watching the shadows of the swaying beach grasses, he leaned in to take his reward, steering Chuck’s jaw around to cover his mouth with his. This gasp he felt, Chuck’s breath pressing into his lips, buttocks clenching where they pressed to Casey’s thighs. Casey’s other hand moved from the railing to wrap around his waist. He didn’t need to look for the reaction. As soon as his mouth touched his lips, he knew Chuck’s eyes had drifted shut. The focus turned inward, away from the call of the gulls and the salt-heavy breeze to the warmth of hands and skin to skin.

When Casey lifted his head to pull back after the soft press of lips, Chuck’s eyes were still closed. It gave Casey a half-second to study that expectant, smooth face without being observed. The kid was unaware of his own appeal and handsomeness, a shy heart Casey would claim as his from here on out.

The thought sent heat crawling up Casey’s legs to the sweet spot he found against the kid’s ass. Suddenly, he developed a need to end this conversation. Some dialogue with the heart out in the open was best done under the cover of darkness. In bed. Preferably after testing the bedspring several times in a row for weight, thrust, and durability.

Chuck shifted on his feet, and he had to know that move pushed one cheek directly up against Casey’s fly. Pleased with the kid’s willingness to recline back into him, Casey pressed up a bit closer behind him so that he could bend his head and bury his nose into that tuft of soft, unruly hair on his neck. He both heard and felt Chuck gulp as Casey rubbed his back, up and down, before settling a hand lower to cup an ass cheek. Not to waste a chance, he gave it a tight little squeeze. Yep, it was skinny as ever.

Chuck jolted. “Wow. Still ... enjoying the view, I see?”

“Pretty... isn’t it?” Casey rumbled back at him and just smiled. There was no need to see Chuck’s face at this point, because Casey knew the kid had stopped trying to focus on the rippling water, and searching for an answer out there wasn’t as much of an issue any longer.

“I ... like it.”

“Me, too.” Casey moved his head slightly, down and to the side, to breathe against his nape, tease the line of bone at his collar until he was thwarted by fabric. “You need to take a night to forget all this ... the road we took to get here ... what else in this world wants to stop us, and think about only what’s here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Another swallow. “You don’t let stuff get to you.” Chuck didn’t need to say ‘like Ellie, my dad, or the Cipher.’ But like a willing hostage, he angled his head a bit, offering Casey more access to his neck. “Ever?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Casey dropped a soft kiss on a light purple bruise, not thinking about how it got there. Then he tested the sensitivity around it with his teeth. Chuck made a little noise, not in pain, but Casey decided to let it go without worrying at it again. He lifted his head and brushed his cheek against the kid’s temple, liking the way his lips were slightly parted ... like he was waiting for more.

“We do have something to take care of right now,” Casey said, close enough to the edge of Chuck’s ear that his lips grazed the skin, and Chuck shivered. “We can talk about all of this later.”

Chuck almost stepped on his own foot trying to turn around, jerking when he realized the only thing that stopped him from tripping were the arms boxing him in. He let Casey steady him and together they stood there for a moment, both looking over when a driftwood wind chime caught a breeze, the sweet tinkle like the ocean singing.

“What ... do you have in mind?” Chuck asked, his voice thicker, husky.

Now you’re thinking, cupcake. Casey pulled back and smiled again as he could feel Chuck practically vibrating against him, anticipating what he thought was going to happen next. He waited until he saw the kid’s shoulders relax, and he felt him take a deep breath.

“Wait. You ... you weren’t kidding about that, were you? We’re going to do ... something else ... that doesn’t have anything to do with ..?”

Thankfully, the kid withheld the hand motion.

Casey took advantage of the momentary confusion to indulge in a little neck bite, and then peeled away from the kid’s shirt and backed up a step. “Right now I’m going to pull dinner out of the oven, and we’re going to sit down and eat. Figure you’d want to get some food in you.” He watched the kid turn around a little unsteadily. “But maybe you’ll be a good little hostage and remind me, after dinner, what things you were talking about doing.”

“As if there’s a chance you would forget?” Chuck asked, petulantly rubbing his neck.

Casey was already opening the door that led inside. “Oh, I wouldn’t forget, pancake,” he agreed. “But I just like it when you tell me.”

-x-

“That was pretty gutsy of you to steal me out from under my sister’s nose ... but I can’t help but notice it’s getting late.” Chuck frowned at the expanse of windows. Why, he had no idea, since there was nothing but darkness beyond them. “It’s pitch black out there, isn’t it?”

Casey finished off his portion of pot roast by mopping it up with a piece of bread. “Good to know your powers of observation are still intact,” he said, chewing slowly while he eyed the kid. “What’re you getting at?”

Chuck hesitated just for a second before leaning back in the chair, stretching his long legs out under the table. The few sips of scotch he had were already unwinding his muscles better than any of Ellie’s painkillers. “Okay, you’ve been evasive, and I think I deserve to know. You’re not going to have me back at Devon’s by nine-thirty. Heck, it’s almost that now.”

“There you are, using those brilliant powers again.” Casey waited for Chuck to give him the stink-eye before he washed the bite down with a drink. “Finally realized I didn’t use the term kidnapping in gest?”

“You’re not really the joking type, agreed.”

“Something wrong, kid?” Loosening up, Casey settled his broad shoulders on the back of the chair, a move that made Chuck kind of take note of the way his shirt gapped opened a bit at the collar, giving him only a peek of muscles and the light sprinkling of chest hair there. Was he trying to be a giant tease? “You look worried.”

“I’m not ... well, much.”

“Not much?” Casey chuckled. Since Chuck was seated kitty-corner from him at the heavy dining table, the kid could feel his partner extend a long leg until an ankle wrapped around the kid’s. Quite possessively. Perhaps he was taking the kidnapping thing seriously? “Got a complaint, muffin?”

“Complaint? Well, it’s nothing about all of this.”

“So you like the house.” It was at this moment Chuck noticed Casey was barefoot. He only knew this because the man’s toes began sliding up the outside of his jeans. “Everything here meets your lofty approval?”

Chuck waved a hand around the room, though he was getting the distinct feeling Casey meant something else. “My gosh, of course. I mean, look at this place. It’s so ... open.” In fact, the only thing that separated them from the wide living room overlooking the water was a massive stone fireplace that ran up the middle of the house. It was a two-sided hearth, which meant from the dining room Chuck could still see through the flames into the room beyond. The fire cast a glow over them, and the only other light came from low candles Casey had scattered over the tabletop. Who knew John Casey was a romantic? The kid was learning enough tonight to make himself dizzy. “I’m waiting to wake up from a dream, I suppose.”

“Then what’s bothering you, kid?”

“You have to ask?”

Casey put down his fork. “Something tells me this is about a certain hot-headed brunette.”

“Now look who’s showing off his powers of observation?”

“Smartass hostages get special treatment. Ever hear of that?”

“Um ....” Chuck’s gaze shifted down, lingered on the sly smirk. He felt himself slide back in his seat just a bit ... though part of him wondered .... “Seriously, she was already half out of her mind with worry when I was still under Devon’s roof, for God’s sakes. What do you think she’s going to do when I don’t show up tonight?”

“Send out a search party?”

“Have you met my sister? The woman who by now is at the undertaker ordering an extra-large version of a pine box? That’s your mildest option, buddy. I’ll be the one sending out a search party. For your well ....” The kid’s eyes flicked down. “For some relevant tidbits that I’ve come to be fond of.”

“Anything down there look like a tidbit to you, muffin?”

“Er, point,” Chuck conceded, blushing, “but have you considered what they’ll look like swinging from her pitchfork like a raccoon’s tail? Privates dangling out there for everyone to see?”

Manhood demanded Casey wince.

“Okay, not pretty, but face it, she’s going to be worried sick, Casey.”

“So?”

“So? After a year of looking for me, finding me, and now in her mind, she’s lost me again? She has to think I’m in danger, or at least doesn’t know what’s happening to me.” Chuck went still when his brain caught up. “Well, besides, ah ....”

That smile again, smug, and damn sexy. It used to scare him, and in a way it still did. “I think buggering was the term she used,” Casey said.

“Have I apologized for that?”

“Maybe we can work something out later, cupcake.” Casey’s calf gave Chuck’s leg a little shake. The kid had to speculate if he would be making up on his knees or back, but he figured Casey would clear that up right away. Yep. He was helpful like that.

“Still ... I feel terrible, after everything I’ve put her through.”

“Don’t.”

“How?”

“Do you have the pocket watch?”

Chuck debated the odd question before he tipped back in the chair, fishing it out of the front pocket of his jeans. “Of course. I don’t plan on losing it again.” When he had it in his palm, he thumbed the tiny latch and opened the case. “So?”

“What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.” Chuck turned it between his fingers. “Way past your curfew, buster. Why?”

He saw the self-satisfaction in Casey’s face as he took a drink of the scotch. “A half hour ago, the bellhop from the Beaulieu Grande delivered a note to your sister.”

“Why did he do that?”

Casey shrugged. “I gave him twenty reasons to do it.”

“So ... you wrote a note to appease her?”

“Hell, nothing will appease her, kid, but she knows you won’t be coming home tonight ... not that that will let her sleep anytime soon.”

“True. She does have a vivid imagination.”

“Yeah? So do I.” Casey grabbed the napkin Chuck was twiddling with and stretched it to its full length. “Wanna see what I can do with this?”

Chuck almost did a double-take at the way Casey was holding the napkin, looped in one fist like he was ready to perpetrate a serious restraint. “You can’t do anything with a – um, forget I said that.” He cleared his throat. “But hey, I guess she’ll know that I’m safe, at least.”

“As long as you cooperate, hostage,” Casey said, and he purposely took a long swig to make Chuck think about that.

He saw in Casey’s face that he was playing with him, to see how willing he was to put the sister-baggage aside and have a little of the fun Casey had promised this particular kidnapping would entail. “I have to say,” and Chuck twisted his ankle a little to confirm it wasn’t going anywhere, “so far, besides the scenery, it’s been a pretty bland kidnapping. Hey, and I am the expert here.”

Casey nearly sputtered out his drink. “Bland?” Eyeing the kid more carefully, he slanted back, and now Casey’s damn shirt really had to work to span his shoulders. “It might be a little too early, Bartowski, to label the entire snatch and grab process a wash. This isn’t all I’ve got, you know.”

Chuck could sense that one coming a mile away. No one liked a challenge more than Casey. “So how does John Casey start off a good kidnapping then, anyway?”

Casey smirked and took a final pull off the scotch. That was safe enough. But under the end of the table, he clamped both calves around Chuck’s knees. Chuck was immediately reminded how many muscles he had even there, and now that it was evident dinner was over, it seemed Casey was going to show him what he meant by ‘fun.’

Half of Chuck’s brain felt the little bit of booze playing nicely with his usual duck and cover routine. But the other part wondered if his boyfriend would find a way to tie him up with dinner napkins and if he should be worried about that. They were awfully big napkins.

“I like to start with orders,” Casey said.

“Orders?”

Casey disengaged his legs under the table, but the kid figured out a second later it was only to wedge his bare feet in the available, tiny spot on Chuck’s chair between his spread legs. He stretched his back ... and his toes. “Gotta let the hostage know who’s in charge, right?”

Chuck’s eyes popped open and his mouth just started going. “I think the only way I’d convince you otherwise is if you accidently fell off that porch tonight and broke something important – uh, a leg or something. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to subdue you anytime soon. Unless ... you’re not immune to a little charm?”

“That shit doesn’t work in a hostage situation.”

Chuck had to give him a smart aleck grin at the prospect it would certainly work later. “All right, then, I don’t suppose my first order is to sit here and have witty banter?”

The foot on his chair tapped him in a place that had Chuck’s eyes bulging. “Stand up.” When Chuck did, Casey leaned back far enough in his own chair that it went up on two legs. More of Casey’s broad torso was now visible, and if part of that move was to get Chuck to notice the way that pesky shirt was barely buttoned, it wasn’t working.

Hardly at all.

“Now what?” Chuck rested his hip on the table, accidently jiggling the glasses a bit.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

“My ..? Uh-huh. I see.”

“I meant now, brown eyes.” Casey motioned with a finger.

“Okay.” Chuck flashed a smile that lacked confidence and started at the top button of his white shirt, trying not to worry about how he may appear. He had lost weight in the week, his hair was unruly and longer than it had been in a while, but he was finally beginning to realize that those things never mattered to his partner. As soon as he had it unbuttoned, he tossed it over his chair and stood barefoot in just his blue jeans.

Then came the inevitable folding of his arms over his chest until Casey just shook his head. “Nuh-uh. On your hips or at your side. I wanna get a good look at you first.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Just stand there.”

As much as he wanted to cross his arms or look away, Chuck forced himself to stay still under the watchful scrutiny. “I don’t suppose I’ll be getting the shirt back any time soon?” he joked lamely.

“Should’ve kissed it good-bye before you gave it a toss, kid. You won’t be needing any clothing for a good week or so.”

“Ah, any?”

“No,” Casey replied, and he took a full half minute to appraise him before he made eye contact again. “The bruises. Barely can see most of them now. All the trouble you’ve been in, you always did heal up nicely, kid.”

“Did I pass the test?” Chuck asked, clearly realizing too late that the business with the shirt served several purposes. Casey hadn’t seen him without it, fully bare chested, for a while now. Maybe he needed to make sure the kid was up to whatever he had planned for him.

“Flying colors, pancake.” Casey’s grin broadened and he dropped his feet from the other chair. On the table, the bottle of scotch caught his attention; he poured one last shot, tipping it quickly for a drink.

Chuck blinked, catching that he had been staring at Casey’s throat as he swallowed. “That’s a relief,” he said. “I’d hate to think what you might do to hostages who can’t meet your explicit expectations.”

“Heh. You don’t want to know.” Casey stood up so quickly that Chuck startled, and the kid jolted and rattled the plates and glasses before bumping into Casey. “Smooth going, hostage.”

“Maybe warn me when you’re going to –”

“Stand?”

“Yes. Stand.” Chuck backed up until his thighs hit the edge of the table. With no other choice, he sat on the tabletop and ran his palms down his thighs. Good going. Now Casey knew his hands were sweaty. “Is this what you wanted, kidnapper? I’m sitting now.”

“I think I can work with this,” Casey answered, just watching him as Chuck tried to get comfortable while sitting next to his empty plate, legs dangling. It made the kid realize he had made yet another mistake, since now he’d have to tip his head back quite a bit to look into those impish eyes. “I haven’t had dessert yet, have I?”

“I – I didn’t realize we had one on the menu,” Chuck said, then absently picked up a fork until it hit him. “Oh.”

“Mmm.” Casey planted his hands on either side of Chuck’s waist and hung on. The warmth of his breath gave the kid goosebumps. He was not even certain he remembered the last time that happened. Back at the farm, he guessed. “So, hostage, next order: close your eyes.”

Chuck did, but his mouth refused to cooperate. “You seem pretty bold, Mr. Abductor, already making me shed bits of my clothing ... and, er, pinning me down on your rather sturdy dining table? Is that part of your nefarious plot to earn my cooperation?”

Casey snorted. “Cooperation or not, kid, I will have dessert tonight.”

Chuck couldn’t help but wet his throat. His eyes gradually opened to look into a devious sea of blue. Okay, then. The kid glanced around him, instinct making him assess his predicament. The candles flickered. His belly was pleasantly full. The fire crackled, bathing them in gold-orange light.

Man, the table was hard. And standing over him was one looming, sexy, complicated boyfriend. There was no question what he had in mind, and Chuck had a feeling the table was about to get tested for stability.

“I – I actually love dessert,” Chuck stammered. “Um, pie ... then there’s ah, cake -”

“Everything tastes better with frosting. Ever try it on a hostage?” Even as he asked it, Casey gave him a gentle push and kept pushing, lowering him until Chuck’s back was pressed into the tablecloth.

“I have a feeling you’re not kidding about that,” Chuck blurted.

“I don’t kid about buttercream, cupcake.” As Casey leaned over him, his half-buttoned shirt fluttered open, and the muscular slope of his chest down to his pecs was exposed, something Chuck found extremely distracting. “Let me show you.”

Casey followed him all the way down, and when Chuck darted a look at his boyfriend’s mouth, Casey picked up where they left off out on the porch before dinner. This time, he put a hand on Chuck’s chest and made sure he was pressed utterly flat to the table before kissing him again.

Chuck felt his pounding heart right up against Casey’s shirt. It was the deep, tongue-teasing kiss and the bulge of Casey’s erection against his leg that had him immediately gasping and parting his lips in arousal for his boyfriend.

When Casey delved deeper, Chuck flailed some, trying to keep his too-interested shaft from Casey’s notice just yet.

He moved his mouth and gave him a little nip, when his brain made an unwitting connection. Everything in his mind bogged down. His body froze.

Why? What was it about this? Flat on his back and helpless on a dinner table.... with a man lying down on top of him? Half naked on his back with a big body straddling him -

Chuck reached to the side, his grappling fingers finding, of all things, a dinner knife. Holding onto Casey’s shoulder, he tried to suck in air that wasn’t there. Sweat, cold along his skin, popped up. God, don’t do this again. Not here. Stay still, stay still, it will go away.

“Bartowski. Look at me,” Casey ordered. Sometime in the past five seconds, he had shifted most of his weight off of Chuck’s chest. “What the hell is it?”

“N-nothing,” Chuck answered, gathering his wits enough to shake his head. He looked from those huge hands on his shoulders to those bright eyes and back again. Squirming some, the kid blocked out everything by putting a hand on his forehead and covering his eyes. He breathed in air that was all flavored with Casey. “Honest.”

Casey’s hand moved to the back of Chuck’s neck, fingertips digging in a little. “Bullshit. Something has you spooked.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah? Then why is your heart suddenly hammering like horse hooves? Usually takes getting your cock in my mouth for that to happen, and I’m pretty sure I was a few minutes away from that.”

Well, that confirmed the dessert menu.

Chuck’s swollen lips parted. Sweat trickled down his chest. “Liam,” he said a little hoarsely.

The word made Casey’s muscles clench, every single one along his arms, a tightening Chuck could actually see now that his boyfriend had them locked straight on either side of his shoulders. His confused eyes took a second to search the kid’s face. “What in the hell would make you utter that maniac’s name at this moment?”

Chuck fumbled with the hem of Casey’s shirt and looked off to the side, keeping his eyes on the plates and anything besides his partner’s face. The good news was at least he had dropped the knife. “He ... did this to me,” Chuck said when he found his voice.

Casey gave Chuck an even, take-no-bullshit look. “What do you mean? Did what?”

“He, ah, held me down on the table. After we had dinner.”

“Oh, fuck,” Casey sneered and added a few more curses under his breath. “Tell me if -”

“No, no – it’s not what you’re thinking.” Chuck turned back to peer up at him because he had to let Casey see his eyes. “He didn’t ... not anything all the way. Just ... he ... oh, God.”

“Tell me, kid.” The big hand still holding him began to massage his shoulder.

“He ...put his mouth on me.” The shame in the memory twisted Chuck’s stomach.

Casey propped himself a little higher, staring straight down at him. The firelight splashed over half his face, and Chuck had never seen his boyfriend as hurt or angry as he was now. Like a dog that had watched its puppy get flattened under a wagon wheel. He just shook his head, not knowing what to say.

“How ....” that low voice scraped, vibrating through him, and Chuck was so instantly aching for Casey that he almost forgot his own hurt.

“It only lasted a few ... seconds.”

“A few seconds?” Casey repeated, shaking his head numbly. “That son of a bitch.”

“It was ... nothing. Almost. Really.”

“Asshole,” Casey muttered and after a pause his brows drew down. “I don’t get it, though. If Liam wanted to rape you, he would’ve done it, and taken his sweet-ass time, too. Again and again, making you feel all of it. Letting you suffer. What ... how the hell ..?”

Chuck tried to shrug his trapped shoulders. “I kneed him in the throat.”

Casey squinted at him. “You did what?”

“You know, kneed him. I would demonstrate, but you might not appreciate it.”

Casey’s body up to now rippled with the restrained urge to kill, but his face became filled with something like concern. “I should get up,” he said, starting to move.

“No.” Chuck wasn’t exactly sure if it was a request or an order he had just blurted, but he reached over and took hold of the hand Casey had started to move. Circling his wrist, the kid brought it up to his chest. “You can’t do that.”

“Chuck ....” Casey’s voice trailed as he shook his head.

“No, listen to me. I’m not going to let him get into my head. If I do that, he ... still wins, doesn’t he?”

Casey watched his face thoughtfully and finally leaned back towards him, the trust they shared heady there between them. It took forever, but Chuck could see the tension leaving his boyfriend’s large body. “That’s a first,” Casey said quietly.

“What?”

Casey pulled his hand away and ran it down the kid’s cheek, touching him like he needed to memorize something. “You’re not struggling for air anymore. Your pulse is slowing.”

Chuck smiled up at him and playfully bumped his hips towards Casey’s thigh. “I think you’re going to have to do something about that.”

“You sure?”

“I can’t believe it’s me trying to convince you,” Chuck said, waggling his brows as one hand went up and under Casey’s shirt, finding warm skin. “Your hostage may be staging a rebellion. I mean, I may be new at this, but you might want to show me what you meant about dessert.”

Casey relaxed, pushed back toward him, the slow rocking matching the hip thrust Chuck had given into a moment ago. He dipped down to grab hold of the back of his nape and bite, let his teeth lightly scrape and mark. Licking and moving, his cock rubbed up against Chuck’s jeans, side to side, pressing between his slender thighs. Casey’s hands then glided down his shoulders, his arms, and strong fingers clasped his wrists, holding them down on the table, as if Chuck would actually think about staging that threatened rebellion. And when he finally kissed, it was hungrier than the first time, his mouth almost bruising Chuck’s but he didn’t want him to stop. Not for all the silver in the Rockies.

Casey growled and kissed and nipped and finally pulled his head back. “You taste as sweet as peaches, kid, even without the buttercream,” he said, his face against Chuck’s temple, breathing into his ear. “I wonder how you can get sweeter, but I guess I’m gonna find out.”

“Are you ... really talking about icing? Like ... gooey stuff?”

Casey inched his hips forward, pressing harder. “Isn’t that what goes on a cupcake, cupcake?”

"Well – I – guess so?”

“Heh. It is. So first I’m gonna frost every inch of you, and then I’m gonna lick it off. Got a problem with that?” Casey slowly rocked into him again, making the kid feel every hard inch. “Long legs?”

“Ah, no – I actually like frosting.”

“Good, because that’s what you’ll be having later, too.” That scrape came with a nip.

“Sounds ... – ow - filling.” Oh, crap. Really?

Casey chuckled at the kid’s throat. “It will be,” and one hand slid down over the front of Chuck’s jeans, trapping his cock under his fingers. Then he slowly added a rocking and grinding, letting his hands and mouth wander.

And if this is a game, Chuck’s playing. He groaned, pushing and rolling beneath him before he latched onto Casey’s hips and pulled him down so that they’re pressed together, full body contact with Casey’s thighs against his. “So why don’t you ... show me how this works?”

“You need a lesson?” Casey had no issue complying and went back to work on him with his mouth. His lips skidded over his shoulder, the hard jut of his collarbone. He had gradually shifted lower, and his cock was a tight bulge under his jeans against Chuck’s upper leg, pressed tightly as if there was any question at all what this was doing to him. “I remember how ornery you can be, tiger. Don’t tell me I have to tame you first.”

“Casey ... you should ... Oh. That’s ... oh. Fuck,” Chuck breathed. Casey remembered, all right. Not only that the kid had sensitive nipples, but that biting and sucking every available square inch of skin on the way down only made the kid try to arch harder into him. “Come on ....”

“Pretty bossy for a hostage, princess,” Casey murmured, licking a stripe down his sternum. “Yeah, you’re getting need some buttercream there, too. Better get started.”

“With... what now?” Chuck watched in disbelief as Casey stretched one arm out to swipe up a silver-lidded pot and drag it over to Chuck’s side. “Oh. I thought that was sugar.”

“It is.” Casey, all business, snatched the butter knife Chuck had dropped a few minutes ago. “But you have to add milk and butter to make it spreadable.”

“You – you really are serious about this?”

“Heh. Now hold still,” Casey said, one hand sliding over the flat belly bared for him. “Maybe there, eh, kid? And here ... I know that’s a weak spot for you, puppy.”

Chuck glanced down to where Casey began to diligently spread a white, fluffy glob over one nipple. “It is not ... I have no – oh.”

“There you go ....” Casey grunted and licked over where he’d spread a dollop of the frosting, letting the kid feel the bumps of his teeth there. “Jesus ... that’s a good boy, now.”

“Oh. Oh, shit, shit –“

“Nah, way better.” Casey scooped up a big dollop and took his time licking it off his finger in a contemplative manner. “Huh. Tastes like clueless virgin.”

“For the record I’m not. And you would know,” Chuck said.

“For the record, it’s my favorite flavor.” One hand drifting up, he cradled Chuck’s head, tilting him so that the kiss would go deeper, stronger. The taste of Casey’s mouth made him tingle, and Chuck fed him a deep moan in return, went languid and heated in his arms.

“You like it, too, muffin? I’ll save you plenty. Hope you’ve frosted cakes before, because I hate to think where that spreading knife is gonna be.”

Chuck darted a look down and crinkled his nose. “I once cut off a cow’s tail when I was trying to help with the birthing. Maybe I should use my finger?”

“Good thinking. Now hold still, want to get some a little lower.” Before Chuck could ask how low, he felt a plunk of frosting land on his ribcage. Carefully, gently, Casey began to spread it downward to his belly, his tongue slipping out to wet those parted lips as he watched the knife skim over his abs. “You’re temptation in the flesh, kid, you know that?” and he bent his head to taste his handiwork.

“Oh ... that’s ....” Chuck sank into the table, feeling Casey put his hips between his legs and stretching into him, giving him the heat of his body. The kid closed his eyes, shuddering as Casey’s lips clamped onto his skin, mouthing him hungrily, tasting him and licking the tender swell of a pec, over the bump of his nipple, down the curve of his ribcage before dragging over his flat stomach.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need more, aren’t you?” Casey asked. Grinning, he dipped the knife in again, but instead of spreading, he put it in front of Chuck’s mouth. “Don’t remember all your lessons, do you, hostage? When I put something tasty in front of your mouth, you should open it, eh?”

Chuck made a face and reddened at the same time. Since the face included sticking out his tongue, Casey spanked the frosting right on there. “Hey, I – I wasn’t -”

“Good, huh?”

It was actually, but the kid was almost afraid to tell him, considering how much frosting he’d be eating later. Casey was an awfully big man.

“I – I have other delicious bits, you know?” Chuck offered up. “You should – ah, take the pants?”

“Others, huh?” Casey bowed his head and took a kiss, determined to get him loose and happy and say what he wanted. His boyfriend tasted like warm butter and sweet as June. “Like what, Bartowski?”

“I – that. Sheesh.” Chuck knew his cheeks were pink, even while his shaft curved towards Casey’s hand. He arched his hips, struggling himself to get the jeans off, but Casey held him down. This should be obvious, but Chuck clenched his hand in Casey’s hair to get his attention. “Please... Casey ..?”

Okay, it was a cheap shot, Chuck knew, but it almost always worked for Casey.

Casey tipped his head up then to give him a half smile, his lips wet with saliva and a little bit of frosting that Chuck wouldn’t mind tasting. Besides the rubbing, he hadn’t even touched his cock yet, something the kid would point out if he wasn’t having a hard time putting together coherent sentences. “Well, you do make a point, pancake. he rumbled, tonguing one of his hip bones. “I could use something sweeter ... Hmm, not there.”

Reaching down, past his flat abdomen, Casey stroked the ridges of taut muscle before descending to the pants. Unbuttoning them, he had them half-open in about ten seconds, pushing them down far enough to get the nuisance of denim out of the way. When he ran a hand over the kid’s thigh, Chuck reflexively tightened arched, holding his breath for the wet warmth –

“Son of a bitch,” he heard.

Chuck froze. That didn’t sound anything like what he had expected to hear. “Is there ... a problem?”

He lifted his head and gaped directly into Casey’s face.

“You’re bleeding again, pancake.”

“I am?”

“No, I stopped giving my first head job in four months to tell a funny joke. Got the punch line?”

“So, yes, I’m bleeding ... um, maybe a little? Big deal.”

At that point, Casey levered up off of him. “I need to have a better look.”

“Weren’t you just doing that?” Actual shock registered. Chuck tightened his legs around Casey’s thighs in case he thought he was going anywhere. “You could see fine, couldn’t you?”

Casey rolled his eyes and took Chuck’s hand, hauling him up until he was sitting again. “Let me see.”

Chuck frowned, but he loosened his legs and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s fine.”

“The bandage didn’t hold.” Casey’s breathing slowed down as he examined him while Chuck, now more than a head lower than Casey, conducted his own examination. “Damn.”

“Don’t say it,” Chuck mumbled, glancing down. The bulge in Casey’s pants, still in full effect, was so close to Chuck’s hand he could just reach out and mold his fingers around it. Or bite. Once he got past that distraction, he lowered his gaze to his own jean-clad thigh. The deep maroon splotch on his jeans was no more than a few inches across. “That? That’s nothing. I don’t even feel it!”

“You will in about two minutes from now.”

“What do you mean by that?” Chuck asked.

“After.”

“After – two minutes?”

Casey arched one brow at him and ran a finger down the sprinkling of hair on his chest. “It has been four months, hasn’t it, kid?”

Chuck glowered. “I liked you better when you were worried about my leg. Even though you shouldn’t be.”

“Shut it. I need to get a look at it.” But first Casey pushed a hand through his hair and glanced towards the darkness beyond the windows. He cringed at what he was about to say, but finally said it anyway. “Maybe you do need more time to heal, kid. Wonder if I should take you a back to the doctor ... and your sister.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You don’t think she’s going to find a way to blame me for this?”

“Of course not. It was an accident.”

“And that was your dick speaking for your brain.”

Chuck shot him another dirty look, though it was true that a hard-on had a tendency to unravel little things called logic or decision-making. “Okay, okay. Here’s the thing,” he said, his hand drawn to the dip of Casey’s tense lower oblique muscles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because so far this kidnapping has been my most pleasant so far –”

“Short list. Me – when I hated you. Liam. Sam. Rudy. Liam. Not saying much, is it?”

“Well, point.” Chuck veered in and unbuttoned a few of those last pesky buttons on Casey’s shirt, letting it flutter open a bit. “But if you think for one second I’m going to let you take me back to Devon’s over this,” he said against Casey’s lower ribcage, brushing his lips back and forth before elaborating, “you really don’t understand the persuasive skills of your captive very well.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Chuck took his hand then. Slowly, he closed his fingers over Casey’s wrist. Under the grip he thought he felt the tendons tighten at the suggestion of a manacle, the seductive touch Chuck used to keep him there. “What are you going to do about this, if I tell you I won’t let you take me anywhere?”

Casey looked down at the fingers clasped around his wrist. “Still ... don’t think this is a good idea,” he grumbled. “Not going to take a chance of hurting you.”

Somewhere under the gruffness was a tone Chuck liked to think of as piqued interest. The kid grinned up at him and rose to his feet, tugged. “Negatory, soldier. Turn around.”

Casey apparently wasn’t accustomed to taking orders, especially from a skinny hostage. “Why?”

“Are you going to be a big prick, or are you going to let me do this?”

“Big prick is always on the table until I know what the options are.”

“God, you are stubborn. Please?”

Casey’s eyes darkened, not convinced. It was the expected version of Casey, the one who knew what he wanted and could have it but was doing everything not to screw up his new life story in the first page or two. “What are you up to, cupcake?”

“Better if I show you.” Taking his sleeve, Chuck coaxed him two steps around until Casey understood he wanted him to switch positions. The kid kept his gaze on Casey’s, as if they were dancing. If eye contact was broken, the rhythm could be lost, Casey could get needlessly noble and that would put an end to the team frosting match, dammit.

“Bartowski ....” he growled. His boyfriend’s chest expanded with a deep breath as Chuck stopped him.

“Your turn to sit down.” Chuck put a hand on his chest and gave a little push. “There.”

As Chuck expected, Casey continued his imitation of a brick wall. None too shabby, either. “Not with your damn leg,” he said, muttering something about getting him a clean pair of jeans and a bandage. He even took a step towards a darkened room the kid had guessed was a bedroom.

“Hold on, hold on,” Chuck insisted. When Casey paused to just stare, Chuck’s brows drew down at that tenacious expression. “You really are going to test me, aren’t you? Do I have to pull out the more potent measures?”

“Potent? Christ.” Chuckling darkly, Casey leaned in so close that Chuck got a waft of the scent of his hair, his skin, soap from an earlier bath now mingled with sweat. It was an aroma that made Chuck even harder, particularly when Casey folded his arms over his chest, biceps bulging and Chuck felt the brush of his shirt and rock-hard muscles underneath. “You wouldn’t dare to try, cupcake.”

Chuck tightened his grip. The crooked smile flashed.

Casey surveyed the grin before making an unbecoming noise through pursed lips. “Huh. Let’s see. Pretty smile, or your blood on me. Sorry, kiddo, not working this time.” He looked down at Chuck’s bare chest and maybe even got as far as his crotch area before he added under his breath, “Nice try, puppy.”

“So the answer to my earlier question,” Chuck said, still smiling while he grazed the pulse at Casey’s wrist. “You decided to go with prick. Good to know.”

“You better have a hell of a lot more than this, or your ass is going to be in that wagon, princess, before you can get your first taste.”

Chuck’s mouth dropped open. Moment of truth, he thought, straightening his spine. “Sit down, Casey.” With the order, he put what he thought was a firm hand to Casey’s shoulder and began to press. The wall might’ve budged a little, but it could have been a sensory illusion.

“Careful, muffin.” Casey’s voice dropped in a way that almost had Chuck backing up. His boyfriend lowered his head towards that pushy hand and then narrowed his eyes at the kid. Chuck caught a flicker of heated interest in them, hiding behind the tendency to be a gigantic stubborn asshole. “It ever occur to you I’m a little bigger than you?”

“Did it ever occur to you that for what I have planned, the leg is not really the vital component in that particular activity?”

Scratching the ruff from this morning’s shave, Casey surveyed him and pressed away from the hand. “Chuck, I ... shit, kid I’m trying to look out for you. Thought that’s what you wanted.”

Chuck moved closer, shifting against him so that tendrils of hair ghosted his temple. “You’re a smart man, Casey, don’t get me wrong,” the kid said, and he slid a hand along the top of Casey’s jeans, ran his fingers beneath the waistband, finding hot skin and ridges of muscle. “So too bad there are times you are the most freaking obtuse person to ever crush the planet under your feet as you stomp over it!”

“Let me guess. Showing off those persuasive skills again?”

Chuck left his hand where it was. Unfortunately underwear stopped him from finding out what had been poking his leg, but he let his fingers trace the tender skin before pulling back to make his next move. He could end up hog-tied in the back of a buggy in about two minutes. Then he just thought to hell with it.

“I said, get down, John,” Chuck ordered. Guiding Casey backwards half a step, he felt him hit the table. His boyfriend had nowhere to go.

“Still a damn scrapper, aren’t you, muffin?” Casey pushed one leg out to the side, testing him, of course, to see what kind of give there was in the kid’s stance.

Chuck stayed planted. His bare foot slid along the outside of Casey’s. “Oh, no, I’ve never been a scrapper. I just know what I want.”

Casey snorted at the very idea of it. “Oh? What would you do?”

“Well ... I would ....” Heck. Gripping his biceps, Chuck leaned in and simply seized his mouth. The move took Casey off guard, so much so that the kid found he could do whatever he wanted – or at least until Casey possibly tried to throw him over his shoulder and lug him back to town. Good luck with that, Casey. Before his boyfriend could even try, Chuck played deep into him, his hand cupping his jaw to take himself deeper, push his tongue in and divert him by sucking on the tip and looping around it.

Get it? We’re not going back to Devon’s.

“Ki – mph.” Casey’s lips broke away a half-second after Chuck swore he heard him groan in his throat. “Mind telling me what the hell has gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Deliberately, Chuck slid his fingers around to the buttons in front. “Literally. Not yet, anyway. Now – you hold still. Hey, where’s the frosting, anyway?”

Casey shuffled forward right into him. “Brown eyes,” he said, a rough command creeping into his voice, “This might be your final warning. Somethings can’t stop when they start ....”

“They better not,” Chuck agreed. Somehow he pushed him back, and situated him just so against the table, and one thigh between his own. “Damn buttons ....”

“Those damn buttons are the only thing keeping me from fucking you into the – Jesus ....”

Chuck moved again, and all the muscles of his thighs flexed, rubbing over a substantial bulge. “Lay back, will you?”

“Lay – listen, puppy, I’ve about come to -”

Not waiting, Chuck took him down flat on his back, pressing between his legs, still half standing with hard groin to hard groin, the pressure of his body on him from thighs to chest as he kissed him again. He swept his lips into the hollow of one big shoulder, the scent of woodsmoke and sweat doing the most wonderful things to his stomach. “God, you ... always smell so good ....”

“Chuck ....” Casey was relaxing, eyes calmer now.

Chuck spoke against Casey’s lips, tasting his breath. “These pants are a nuisance, John. They have to go.”

“Sure you know what you’re doing here, kid?” Casey lifted his head. Whether he wanted it to or not, his breathing had picked up again.

“I’m familiar with the basics by now.” Chuck smiled and used his hands, running them over Casey’s biceps, his fingers automatically digging into that hard-as-rock path. Underscoring his position over his boyfriend, he held the powerful thighs to the table and while he kissed, he scrubbed denim against denim, letting him feel the full press of his stiffness and need against Casey’s own aroused cock. “I see you are too.”

“Goddammit, kid,” Casey said huskily, and Chuck guessed that was the last warning growl.

Good, because they were just getting in the way. A lot like the jeans.

“Does frosting stick to things this hard?” Chuck slid his hand into Casey’s underwear, his thumb playing over the pubic hair, just a teasing caress before he moved the same hand to palm him over the top of the soft cotton. To squeeze him just a little. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

“Oh ... shit ....” Casey breathed. “That bitch is gonna kill me for this.”

“I’ll ignore your kind appellation for a moment since I know it’s your ... well, you-know-what talking.”

“Cock, kid,” Casey said. One big arm settled out to the side, bent to the elbow and palm pointed up. Chuck loved the way his fingers just relaxed. “You can say it.”

“I’d, um, rather just do this.”

Chuck stood up some to put space between their bodies, unbuckled Casey’s belt, slid it free and opened the jeans. They almost went without a hitch until the forth button, when the rigidity of the taut fabric, or maybe what was straining it, created a challenge, but he managed without too much clumsiness.

“Never knew you to be quite this direct, pancake,” Casey said, his voice pure gravel on a dirt road at night. He didn’t seem too upset about his new predicament, like being flat on his back with his pants open was normal.

“I learned from someone that sometimes you just have to take what you want.” Keeping his eyes pinned to Casey’s face, he ran his fingers up and under his shirt. He remembered the night he first caught a glimpse of all of that pale flesh, flecked with blood from the bullet wound, and how he still wanted to run his hands over every hard inch of it. The kid’s smile sobered to seriousness as he trailed his palm over Casey’s upper body slowly, thoughtfully, semi-aware of Casey’s breath catching in his throat, his charged stillness.

“I like that sound,” Chuck said quietly. He moved his hand down, inside Casey’s underwear and gripped the base of his cock. He was hot. Damn, was he hot. When he was sure Casey was looking for the upstroke, Chuck just closed his hand on the heated steel of Casey’s cock and left it there, waiting for the reaction.

Well, that got a response. Casey’s head fell back, his short hair flopping a little as he head landed with a slight thunk. A few candles wobbled and the dinnerware clattered softly. “Christ ... you kill me, brown eyes ....”

Chuck leaned over him, hair brushing his temple. He pressed his face into Casey’s neck, inhaling. “Can I take that as a confirmation that I’m not going to Devon’s tonight?” he asked, his lips sweeping over the warm column of his throat, kissing.

Casey’s fingers clenched tight. “You may never be able to go outside again if you keep that up, muffin. Wanna stayed chained to my bed for a while?”

“How big is it, anyway?” As Chuck dragged his hand up, feeling Casey’s length harden under his cupped palm, he caressed the tip, then withdrew his touch and licked Casey’s salty taste off his finger while those blue eyes watched him do it. “You do know I’m talking about the bed, right?”

“Fuck.” Casey shoulders tensed and he actually shuddered, barely visible, but he did. “You win, kid, take them off. All the way.”

“Wow. See, you can be cooperative. You just need the right motivation.” Chuck reached over and moved the silver pot closer to the edge of the table. “Buttercream, huh?”

“You gonna keep talking?”

“I’m usually more of a chocolate man, but in this case I’ll make an exception.” His finger scooped up a glob and he moved it against the curve of Casey’s shaft, the action making his lover’s muscles tremble like a new calf’s. “Um ... I hope I’m doing this right.”

“Kid, even you can’t screw this up ...oh, fuck ....”

“There, too?” And then Chuck just shrugged and smiled, his lashes sweeping down as he kept doing what was doing, circling around the broad crown. Getting a thin layer there, he scooped up more and dragged his finger up and down, up and down.

Just as his thumb slid over the very top of Casey’s shaft the man groaned, hips rising off the table. “Looks who’s trainable,” he mumbled, sounding lazy and happy.

“You. Shut it.” Chuck squeezed him, took a deep breath, and put his weight into him. “I’ve got a job to do.”

-x-

He had a job all right. The kid was a quick study. Maybe he was still skittish at times, but ultimately he was willing to please. And holy fuck. Casey did have to thank the gods of beautiful young men for that.

The fire blazed, dappling the ceiling with wavering light. Lying flat on his back, Casey tensed and waited for Chuck to suck experimentally at the head of his prick. But instead, he felt the kid slide his hand to the top of his jeans and began to shove them all the way down, giving himself a clear path. Not to be rushed.

Casey lifted his head off the table a little to watch him. It was getting harder not to just bend Chuck over one of the chairs and give him what he was asking for – so damn nicely, too – but the temptation to see the kid finally taking initiative overrode everything else. He wanted to see the visual of Chuck sucking him off, feel it while he watched it happen.

“It’s been awhile,” Casey said, noticing the kid was having a hard time getting the jeans down his thigh, and he had completely forgotten to take the underwear all the way down, too. “Need a quick five minute tutorial, or do you have this covered?”

Chuck looked up long enough to roll his eyes good-naturedly. Those fingers cradled his aching balls. “You just lie there and –”

And the rest of his witticism was drown out by the hellacious clattering of a pot and god knows what else coming from the kitchen.

Everything in him went tight, alert. Suck Me Now Casey rode out of town, and his partner in crime, Mission Mode Casey took over. When he looked at Chuck, peering off to the side with a confused expression, Casey’s eyes widened. This required some fast thinking. He grabbed a handful of Chuck’s hair and hauled him down to his cock. “Get down,” he told Chuck, “Suck it off, now!”

“What?”

“The frosting! You have five seconds and get it clean – then get the goddamn pants up!”

“What the heck are you – guph!”

“I said suck it off, Bartowski! And not the fun way – unh.” Fuck! His words broke when Chuck actually sucked, not that Casey had given him much of a choice. “Need more, kid ... Need ... get it. Someone might be out there – oh, Christ.” Another suck like that and his toes were going to break right off, they were curled so tight.

Those eyes flashed open, staring up at him, perhaps a bit peeved for the hand steering him uncarefully up and down, up and down, and maybe for the mouthful of frosting. “Don’t look at me like that,” Casey said roughly. “Just fucking swallow it. You can complain about it later. When you pick up where you left off.”

“Mmph!”

“Missed some.” Casey clamped down with both hands and pushed. “God, right there.”

“- guph – guph – guph - Fungh!””

He guessed that was fuck you! but he still had some left at the base, so he steered the kid’s head all the way down. Damnation, that felt too good to be real. “That’s it ... right there... Yeah, you’re getting it all kid. Don’t stop, now. Don’t stop.” Casey’s fingers clenched uncontrollably, using a handful of curls to steer his head up and down. “Good ... fuck, now lick it ....”

“Waiff! Affhole!”

The kid had a point. But the potential intruder in the kitchen wasn’t going to wait for Casey to make Chuck get all of it. Cursing his luck, Casey used the grip on Chuck’s head to pull him up, instantly getting a face-full of reasons he’d be the one apologizing later on his knees. “Sorry, kid.” That deserved thanks, too, so he leaned in hastily and snatched a kiss from Chuck’s scowling, frosting-covered lips. Casey didn’t think it was possible, but innocence could actually taste sweeter under a coating of butter and sugar.

“Are you crazy?!”

It took everything in him to pull back. “Could be life or death, princess,” he said, scrambling off the table and yanking up his pants. “Situation called for extreme measures.”

“Extreme?” Chuck yelped, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “You – you just ... made me - !

“Keep your voice down! Not now. You can bitch at me later.”

“But what’s going on?!”

“My dick’s asking the same thing.” Casey was already reaching for his holster slung across a dining chair. “Now get down. Under the table.”

“What was that noise? You can’t go in there – ah, okay, okay. I’m going under the table, it seems.”

“And stay there,” Casey said. He kept pushing down on the kid’s head until his gangly limbs were folded under one end of the table. The kid didn’t look too comfortable or pleased, less so when Casey reached into his holster again. “Take this.”

Chuck’s brows slowly rose and he scooted backwards. “It’s a gun, Casey.”

“So? Take it.”

“I’m Chuck, remember? Your boyfriend? I don’t know how to use a gun -”

“It’s easy, kid,” Casey said, shoving it in his hand. “Three steps. Point, pull, and wait for the scream.”

“But -!”

“Stay.”

The last thing Casey saw before throwing down the edge of the tablecloth and rising was Chuck holding the pistol in front of his eyes, dangling from two fingers. It didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but Casey would have to worry about training him later. After some other methods of training.

Casey crouched, listening. When he only heard the kid’s heavy breathing, he chambered a round and eased his way to the door. Left open by an inch or two, he peered through the crack. The wood stove gave off a faint light from the dying fire, quietly crackling and hissing as the logs inside burned out. Nothing moved. He waited, but his senses told him the room was empty, and when he rounded the corner, gun pointed ahead, it confirmed his instincts were right.

Even so, Casey searched around the room, eyes darting corner to corner, looking for any clues. The pan he had used for the pot roast was on the floor, along with a knife. It explained the racket but not how it happened.

The window next to the stove was open. Casey tilted his head a little at it. The opening was big enough for a person to climb inside, but he had left it that way himself when the kitchen got too damn hot.

Maybe it was the wind. But maybe their luck hadn’t changed. Either way, Casey skulked out the back door, every nerve ending alert. The half-moon gave off a silvery pale light, illuminating the dirt trail and sandy slope that led to the road. His bare feet didn’t make a sound as he headed down the stairs to the ground. Landing softly in the sand, he kept the gun aimed into the darkness and slinked up to one of the house’s wide stilts.

Great. It was a blind corner. The elderly couple who had lived there before built the lean-to shelter for the horse right up next to it, apparently for convenience. Not everyone thought like an outlaw, but Casey saw it as a dandy hiding place under their house for any wayward criminal to hide.

He treated this inconvenience the same way he treated the whole gun battle back at the farm. If something moved, he would shoot it and ask later where to bury it.

Casey took a deep breath, let it out, and snaked around the wood pillar, his Colt aimed dead ahead.

Straight at Vic’s head, to be specific. The horse, momentarily startled by having her dinner interrupted, lifted her ears and stopped mid-chew. If a horse could gape, that would be gaping, Casey guessed. And if a horse could talk, he pegged that look somewhere around ‘What the fuck are you doing here?! I thought you had a grand plan, asshole! Now get up there!’

“Get that look off your face,” Casey griped, lowering his gun a few inches. His eyes conducted another dutiful scan over the sand and seagrass and came up broke. “I haven’t screwed it up yet.”

His surveillance ended when he caught something he should’ve noticed immediately. If a run-of-the-mill criminal or even one of daddy’s goons was outside, Vic would’ve let him know through her usual cues. But the horse in front of him had been happily eating her oats with her ears flopping down. Not stomping, not pushing the air out of her lungs harshly or squealing, or any other move that would signal danger.

Then what the hell caused the ruckus?

Keeping vigilant, Casey cocked his head to listen and turned towards the stairs. Mid-turn, a streak of black caught the corner of his eye.

“There you are ....” he whispered under his breath and lifted the gun again. Wary, he treaded cautiously, sand sliding between his toes, to the corner of the lean-to.

Something hit his ankle. Casey reached with all of the instinct of a hardened soldier and sleuth. He made a grab for the black streak with one easy stroke, brought the thing in front of his eyes, and lifted the gun at it.

The scruffy tabby seemed to blink over at him with a ‘what the hell did I do?’ look.

Casey just blinked back at it, the half-eaten meat stuck right between its teeth.

“You little thief,” Casey said. “Thought you’d help yourself, huh?”

Deciding he probably shouldn’t hold the little pilferer by the scruff of the neck, Casey brought the long-haired cat up to his shirt. The move let him feel every rib and bone poke him along the animal’s side. “Looks like you got left behind, eh? I knew the house came with some furniture and linens, but I guess they forgot to warn me about you.”

Casey was halfway to putting the cat down, but something made him halt and instead he headed back up the stairs. “Skinny little shit, aren’t you? Well ... we might have some leftovers, but don’t tell the kid you’re here. I’ll feed you, but you just skedaddle after that. Got that?”

The feline looked up at him with golden-green eyes. Funny, it didn’t seem lily-livered like most cats. It reminded him of the kid’s stray cat back at the farm, except this one was missing about twelve pounds of extra stuffing.

Hell. What was that noise? Casey tipped his chin to really get a good look at the cat. Purring?

“And don’t try any of those feline wiles on me. I’m up to your tricks, scruffy.” He cleared his throat. “I meant how you look. Sure as hell not a name.”

With the cat in his arms, Casey climbed the stairs to the landing on the porch and went back in through the kitchen. He almost expected to be greeted by Chuck bobbing in and asking a million questions, since the kid never knew how to follow orders.

Surprisingly, it was quiet. He must’ve gotten the hint this time. Either that, or shot himself with the gun.

Casey, shaking his head at the thought, set the cat on the floor and walked over to the pine jelly cupboard and took out two small bowls. At the stove, he then lifted the lid off the roast and forked over a few pieces into one of them. He blew on it to cool it down, and, rolling his eyes at himself, he swung the handle of the ice box open and grabbed a bottle of milk. Pouring some into the second bowl, he set them both down on the floor and folded his arms over his chest.

“Don’t get used to this kind of fancy treatment, tabby,” he whispered gruffly in case the kid could hear him. “I’m only doing this the one time. Then you can pack your things and leave.”

Sure-as-hell-not Scruffy dove for the bowl holding roast beef and began to polish it off voraciously. Casey crinkled his brow at the animal, wondered when he last ate and how people could just up and leave him. “Try to mind your manners,” he said, his tone a little softer.

As if the cat understood, he paused to wind his body around Casey’s ankles and stretch his back against his calf, rubbing. Casey looked down, hesitated, and then bent over to scratch his neck. “Get over there and finish, will you? Come on ... go. I’ve got some business to attend to, and it doesn’t involve you.”

Business. Chuck.

Casey stood up and froze. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, but his brain finally reminded him just how strange this situation was. “It’s not like you, Bartowski, to not defy my orders and run headlong into trouble,” he called into the dining room. Casey listened. Even that didn’t draw him out.

Now he brought himself to his full height, and with tension running across the back of his neck, he pushed past the door and into the dining room. “Kid, did you hear me?” Sidling up to the table, he stooped down and tossed back the edge of the tablecloth. The space under the table was missing one long-legged geek.

Where the hell was he?

“Chuck?” Casey started to check the bedroom at the back of the house, but as he turned he saw the candlelight casting a light over something on the table that wasn’t there before. A note.

“What ..?” He fought hard to blink away the memory of the last time the kid disappeared and he was left with only a scrap of paper from Liam. Bracing himself, he glanced around the room for anything else out of place and plucked up the note. “... the hell?”

It was a hastily scrawled note, all right, but when he recognized the handwriting, Casey let out a sigh and felt his muscles unfurl the knots they had become. Taking a little stroll around the table, he checked the room more thoroughly this time and frowned. “Pancake?” he said, raising his voice. “A few minutes ago I was on my way to getting a halfway decent head job – heh, if your training stuck - and now you leave me with a note? Come out, kid, where are you?”

After a pause where Casey realized he wasn’t going to get an answer, he lowered the paper to one of the candles to make out the writing.

You owe me for that, buster.

But the water looked nice this time at night. I’m outside on the beach. When you’re done, come and find me.

P.S. Can we keep the cat?

Casey read it again and stifled a smile. Grabbing up his satchel next to the fireplace, and not forgetting the silver pot, he sauntered out onto the deck and down the stairs to meet his slightly pissed-off boyfriend. He probably had some making up to do.

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Three Where the Road Ends-x-


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Four

Casey quietly closed the door behind him and looked up and down the side of the elevated porch. He had expected to see the kid standing at the railing, soaking in the view of the ocean under a starry sky. When he didn’t see Chuck, he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and strolled over to the edge. Out of habit, he was quiet, but that’s how he always snuck up on his prey.

It only took a quick scan out over the dune to the edge of the water to pick him out. But then again, it was hard to miss something that tall and pretty.

“Hey,” Casey said. “I turned my back on you for one second, and then I come out and you’re just gone? I wasn’t boring you, was I?”

Chuck turned around to face the deck, having to look up to see him. The darkness couldn’t hide the smile his young lover flashed at Casey. “Did you notice ... the way the moonlight hits the water? It’s ... I don’t know ... kind of -”

“A quiet dance.”

Chuck’s head tilted, the smile paused before it went wider. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Need any company out there?”

The kid rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m saving a place in the sand for my boyfriend.”

“Is he the jealous type, pancake? ‘Cause I might have to get sand in your crack if I go down there.”

“I think he’s busy feeding our new cat, so you should be fine.”

Casey choked on a snort. “Is that a yes?”

“Only if it doesn’t make me seem too forward or desperate.”

“Nothing wrong with saying what you want.”

“So I’m not your hostage anymore?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, long legs,” Casey said. “You are until I say so.”

“Lucky me.” Chuck had lifted his pant legs a little so that he could wade out a few feet into the water. The rippling waves of low tide swished around his slender calves. “Come down here. It’s nice.”

Casey pushed off from the railing and walked over to the top of the staircase. “Mind telling me, kid, how the hell you got down those stairs in the first place?” He nodded at the weathered treads that led straight down to the beach. It was a good twenty steps and fairly steep.

Chuck followed his eyes and seemed to wince. “Um, it wasn’t my usual gracefulness.”

“Sorry I missed it,” Casey replied, beginning to trek down the stairs. “You could’ve cracked your head open. Do you want me explaining that to the warden?”

“You never did tell me the details of your little talk with her the other day.” Chuck, about mid-calf deep, stopped to reach down and lift something out of the water. Casey could make out a small, cone-shaped conch shell, smooth and tan and perfect. The kid examined it for a few seconds before stuffing it in his pocket, like he needed a keepsake of their first night here.

Casey didn’t mind how girly that was. “What about it?”

“It didn’t go very well?” Chuck asked.

“She didn’t threaten to hand me my nut sack in a coin purse, so yeah, there’s that.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “For one, my sister would not use that word -”

“Oh, trust me, I know what she meant.”

“Well, I should be thankful, then,” Chuck mumbled, and just as he turned back to the ocean, his expression changed to that self-conscious shyness. “I might have plans for that part of your anatomy.”

“You might, huh?” That did it. Casey took the last few stairs with more purpose in his step. Once his bare feet hit the sand, he moved directly towards him, feeling every muscle tighten, but in a good way. The kid could do that to him, make him yearn.

Hearing Casey’s feet in the sand, Chuck angled back around to watch him approach. “Oh, hey, you’re kind of handsome,” he joked. “My boyfriend might get jealous, after all.”

“Is he dangerous?” Casey asked.

“Extremely dangerous, I would say.”

“I’ll try to return you with just a little wear and tear, then.” Casey’s eyes traveled from Chuck’s feet, the waves lapping over them, up his long, jean-clad legs to the white shirt fluttering in the insistent breeze. Then and there he knew again that this was the only man he’d ever let own him, body, heart, and soul.

Chuck automatically glanced down. “What? Is something wrong?”

Casey, realizing he had been staring, stuck his hands deeper in his pockets and straightened. “You put your shirt back on?”

“I thought the night air might be cool.”

“Or did you want me to have to take it again?”

“Aren’t you sure of yourself?” Chuck smirked. Hell, who knew the kid had a grin like that? It looked damn good on him.

“Yeah, I am. And you didn’t answer my question,” Casey said. “How did you get down here with a bum leg?”

“Like I said, it wasn’t pretty.” Chuck hesitated, sheepish, and scratched the back of his head. “I sat down and kind of slid – more like bumping, I guess – all along to the bottom.”

“On your ass?” Casey wanted to know, chuckling as he automatically checked out that skinny piece of merchandise for damage.

“Yeah, well, it was the handiest thing I had.” The kid tucked his fingers in the front pocket of his jeans and rolled back on his heels, a move Casey recognized as a little self-satisfaction. “I grabbed the blanket off the couch on the way out. I – ah – rode it down one stair at a time. Like you did when you were a kid? Maybe not you, but some of us did. See? No harm.” Chuck turned around to the side and waggled said skinny ass for him playfully - until Casey reached over and gave it a hearty slap. “Ow!”

“What did you expect?” Casey shrugged. “Wiggling my property in my face, hostage.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah. Mine.”

Chuck frowned and feigned a sore bum that he rubbed. “It was the only way to keep my leg straight.”

Casey shook his head, a bit dumbfounded on how he didn’t break his neck. But because he was close enough to really touch him now, he reached out, fingers brushing Chuck’s hip, and finally just hooked a hand onto his jeans to grip him tightly. “God, too bad I missed it.”

“Agreed. Not my finest moment,” Chuck said, both flushing and grinning.

Tugging again on his pants, Casey brought him near enough to press his chest against his lover’s, the cotton of his shirt rumpling against Casey’s. “Why you’d come down here?” Casey asked. “Thought we were having some ... dessert.”

“I was just thinking. This is a lot to take in.” Chuck brought a hand around Casey’s waist. His attention briefly settled on his lips in a way that had Casey’s cock rising. “A week ago, I thought you were dead, I was trying to get on with my life, hiding ... and now, God, look at this. You can’t blame a guy for being a little shocked, right?”

As Casey wordlessly slid a hand up and under the front of Chuck’s shirt, scrubbing his fingertips up and down his stomach, warning bells sounded in his head. Sure, he had expected the kid to have questions and maybe feel a little storm-tossed after tonight, ditching the sister and all. He knew, however, there were times to talk it out and times to just fuck it out, and the kid needed a little lesson in discerning the two.

Those lessons were Casey’s department. Some complicated maneuverings might be required to get Chuck out of his head and his back in the sand, but Casey was going to make sure they were both washing grit out of places they didn’t even know they had for the next week or so.

“I suppose you wanna spill your feelings, eh?” Casey asked in a tone that said he clearly had better things to do.

Chuck circled Casey’s wrist as it began to creep further up his shirt. “I should tell you something.”

It took every ounce of restraint for Casey not to just pick him up and carry him over to that red and black plaid blanket the kid had brought down. Instead, Casey dug deep for patience and tried another route. “Is this gonna take long?” he asked, dipping his head, pressing his lips to Chuck’s neck, his smooth shoulder, leaving a trail of tender kisses. “Because buttercream does melt ....”

“This w-will be quick,” Chuck stammered. “I promise.”

“Not something I can promise, cupcake,” Casey said, testing the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

“Aah. I – I know you’re aware that I come from a wealthy family,” Chuck said, tentativeness in his voice, “but you should know, I have nothing. Not a dime. And in the last four months, I burned through the cash you left in the bag for me on the train.”

Casey lifted his head and watched him, saying nothing, just staring at Chuck with a bewildered, hard expression. He had learned to expect anything from the kid, but that did surprise the hell out of him.

Chuck, being Chuck, completely missed the meaning of that look. “I know, I know, but I was afraid to get a job, okay? I knew Liam would be looking for me, just like you said, so I had to assume a low profile. The money went to living expenses, my, uh, workshop, maybe some tools ... so –” and he dithered uncomfortably – “it’s gone. I have absolutely not a plug nickel to bring to this ... relationship. I can’t help pay for the house ... or anything for that matter.”

By now, Casey’s jaw had unclenched and swung open in utter amazement. “Oh, hell,” was the only thing he managed. Hearing that speech, he either wanted to laugh or shake him, but he settled on a gentler method. Not waiting, he dug his fingers into the kid’s hips and steered him right up to next him. It put them eye to eye, giving him a view into Chuck’s startled face and letting him feel his stiff body along his. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Casey muttered, going back to something more worthwhile. Like nuzzling and kissing his neck.

“What?” Chuck had to break it off there when Casey was unable to resist taking a kiss, his arms almost lifting him right off the sand. “Mmn. Something wrong? I’m being honest.”

“And a numb nuts,” Casey replied succinctly. When the kid shot him a perturbed look, he could no longer hold back the laughter. “Have you been paying attention, cupcake?”

“I like to think so,” Chuck said with enough sarcasm to back up a step.

“Get back here.” Casey pushed into him, groaning low as Chuck’s hip accidently nudged his hardening groin. “Kid, we have enough money for ten men to live out their lives comfortably.”

When Chuck got a feel for what he should be paying attention to, red washed over his face. He still tried to back up again, but Casey closed his hands around his back to hold him close, letting his cock enjoy the wakeup call. “But that ... money,” Chuck said. “It’s not ... well, you can’t ....”

“Hell, yes, I can,” Casey told him. As soon as Chuck gave him a doubtful look, Casey put a hand on the back of the kid’s head, splaying his fingers through the messy waves and lightly massaging with his fingertips. “Listen to me. There’s no finding the owners of it if that’s what you’re thinking. All of that money came from Liam’s railroad and property deals, and every last dime of it is as crooked and dirty as he was. Who do you think he was doing business with, anyway? Some nice little widows who wanted it for the preacher’s collection plate? Fuck no. These chiselers would kill you for your last dime and leave your body for your own mother to find. Muca salach, every one of them.”

The Gaelic went over him, but cupcake seemed to get the gist. Chuck looked down at his feet. “But ... I don’t know, John ....”

Casey answered that with a kiss, full and deep, tongue pressing in to taste him before gradually pulling back to peer into those chocolate eyes. “You and me ... we might be able to make something good of it, don’t you think?”

“For who?”

“Us for starters. Let’s not be idiots about it.”

“I wasn’t implying ... it just seems -”

“But yes, it’s a shitload of cash ... and I’m certain we’ll find a way to ... spread it around. There are others, like your moron friend, or who the hell knows?”

Chuck tilted his head as he thought about it. “Devon said there’s a shack outside of town ... where the freed-people are trying to convert it to a school house. He told me they’re raising money to hire new teachers, too. They could probably use some help.”

Casey made a noise in the back of his throat. “We’ll look into it. Anonymously of course. Don’t need to draw any attention to our ... fortuitous situation.”

Chuck blinked at him and then a dazed smile appeared. “I think that might help me live with the guilt.”

“You have eight hundred thousand reasons to live with it, muffin.”

“Eight - holy shit,” Chuck said, trembling as Casey kissed down his throat. “What?”

“Don’t worry. There’ll be no shortage of ways to disperse it. To the right kind of folks.” Casey’s fingers slid inside his shirt, warming themselves on his skin.

Chuck hitched a breath and shivered. “I never thought of you as the do-gooder type.”

“You thought right.” Casey yanked Chuck even closer, squeezing up against him, needing more heat and wet and some of that sweet innocence to rub off on him. “Honestly, kid, knowing Liam is looking up from hell and crying makes it all worthwhile.”

“And there it is. The world just righted itself on its axis.”

“Everyone has a motive. Mine might not be as squeaky clean as yours, but it will get the same result, won’t it?” Shrugging as he arched into him, the bulge in his jeans found Chuck’s at the same time he curled one hand under a buttock. “We can’t spend it all. Besides, unless there’s something you haven’t told me, chances are we won’t have children –”

“- hah. Now who’s funny?”

“- so we’ll find ways to make sure ... things are less shitty when we leave this place.” Casey said.

Chuck nodded slowly, eyes reflecting he had made some kind of connection. “So you finally came around to my thinking,” he said, reaching around with one finger tracing Casey’s spine. “A man can crawl through dirt, through a dark tunnel when he thinks he’ll never find light, but if he finds hope, he can still come out clean on the other side.”

“Eh. Fucking poetic, princess.”

“Quiet, you,” Chuck scolded good-naturedly. “I’m just saying that you’ve really thought about this.” Whether he knew it or not, the kid rolled towards his touch, one hand sliding down the front of Casey’s shirt. “The money ... the house. Everything. How did you do it?”

“I had two days.” At Chuck’s befuddled look, Casey just lifted a shoulder. He didn’t get this far without knowing when to be vague. “The money’s been dispersed in numerous bank accounts throughout three counties. Mr. Gould, Mr. Frederickson, and Mr. Henri are discreet with their affairs. If the banks ever trace the accounts, they’re only going to track a ghost.”

“Who now?”

Casey looked into a face of cluelessness, loved him for it, and pretended to tip his hat. “At your service, Mr. Bartowski.”

Chuck, after only a second of confusion, crinkled his nose. “I forgot what a deceitful conman you can be.”

“You mispronounced shrewd, Harvard. And entrepreneur. I told you before, kid. I prefer the delicate term for what I do – er, did.”

“Okay, Mr. Entrepreneur, what is it that you want?” Chuck placed a hand at the top of Casey’s jeans, a few fingers sliding in to try and tickle him. “I want to hear it.”

“Should be obvious.” On the odd chance it wasn’t, Casey shifted on his feet a little, and there, that’s perfect. Their cocks were aligned better, with fewer of the buttons getting in the way.

Chuck swallowed. “That’s not ... what I was getting at ... just now,” he said, but Casey couldn’t help but notice his lips had parted a little. At least now, he’s thinking.

“You sure this can’t wait, brown eyes?” Casey had expected the chatter later. Well after he climbed off him in the sand, their hands still entwined while they looked up at the sky tonight and waited for their heart rates to slow down.

But he resigned himself to one fact about Chuck. If he had to talk, there was no putting a cork in him.

“Okay, if what you say is true -” Chuck began.

“Got a reason to doubt me, cupcake?”

“No, no, nothing like that ... but since it is true ... you now have all of this money stashed away.”

“We,” Casey corrected, making Chuck’s eyes go wide.

“Okay ... we have all of this money ... reputedly ... and I’m pretty sure we can do anything we want.”

“What’s your point?” Casey shifted on his feet, sliding over him a bit. If that didn’t give it away, the slightly wicked smile should. “And get to it, kid. Part of me is losing patience.”

As he felt himself being herded backwards, Chuck darted a glimpse down at that particular part. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

“If you don’t think I’m being serious,” Casey whispered against his cheek, “you better brace yourself for a trip over my shoulder. Only giving you another minute.”

“You can’t end every unwanted debate by throwing me over your shoulder.” Chuck’s face set mutinously. “Besides, I won’t let you.”

“Let me? I like the sound of that. Always nicer when you put up a little fight, eh?” Casey grunted and brought a hand around him, thumb playing in the crease of his buttock. Maybe Chuck needed to be reminded of the pecking order in the kidnapped to kidnapper relationship. “Fifty-five, fifty-four –”

“What are you doing? Are you listening to me?”

“Fifty.”

“Ah ... I see what you’re doing,” Chuck said, all those lean muscles tightening up in his arms. “So, talk fast. Got it. What are you going to do?”

“Well, I brought down the pot of frosting, so I plan on making sure you finish your dessert. Every last drop, kid,” he added in a low growl, just to work a blush out of him. “So, if you’re done yapping -”

“Um, that wasn’t the question.”

Casey narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to like this as much as what I have planned, am I?”

“I’m guessing that would be a no,” Chuck said quickly. “But it’s a simple question, really, John ... yet the answer sometimes isn’t.” He let out a breath as his fingers absently stroked over the ridges of muscles along Casey’s back. “I’m asking you what you want to do ... if we can do anything, and I don’t mean what you have in mind tonight. I’m talking about the greater anything. Your life.”

At first, Casey bit down on his lip, contemplating how hastily he could get his boyfriend’s body across his back before the kid started to squirm. The thought of derailing the night with a goddamn knife scraping over his soul for remnants of trivial wishes and dreams made him want to do it, too. Somehow, the kid always did have a sense of perfect timing.

Yet, if he really thought without his dick for minute, Chuck probably deserved a better answer than finding himself thrown on his back, considering the kid would be just as tangled in those blurry visions he had kept safely locked away.

“You have to do this now, don’t you, Bartowski?” Casey asked.

“Yep.” Chuck eyed him for nearly a full thirty seconds before the smallest smile cracked through. “And I, on the other hand, can be extremely patient.”

“Yeah? Funny, must’ve been some other long-legged, randy geek who had me pinned under him on the dinner table. Ready to spread frosting on my -”

“Dessert offering.”

“Assuming by dessert offering you mean my c-”

“Whoa, okay, okay.” Chuck shuffled his feet. “But I mean it, I want to know.”

Casey heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. So great. He was going to make him do this. Avoiding those brown eyes intent on seeing inside him, he pulled the kid straight into his body, so that Casey’s lips were soft on his warm temple. He could feel Chuck’s breath huffing out, the kid’s hands holding him tight.

“I might build a boat,” Casey said.

“A ... boat?”

“Know what a boat is, don’t you?”

“I’m familiar with them, yes,” Chuck said, being as equally sardonic. “I’m just trying to understand why.”

Casey slanted his head to look out across the water, his hand making a trip down the swell of Chuck’s buttock, splaying and tugging to bring his hip right up to him. “Maybe I want to sail along the coast ... do some fishing ... exploring, winding my way through the inlets ... finding what’s hidden there ... letting the sun warm my back ....”

Chuck smiled. “That’s not why. That’s what.”

“Nothing’s easy with you, is it?”

“I want the why, John.”

Casey turned to face him. “I spent most of my life managing to survive each day,” he murmured, and he kept his eyes steady on Chuck, “but I figured there might be a difference between just breathing and taking a journey. Guess it’s time. Maybe ... I need to get busy living before I get busy dying.”

Chuck straightened and pulled back to stare at him for a moment, obviously gauging seriousness. Whatever he saw, the kid smiled and leaned into him, resting his chin in the meat of Casey’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me inside for once, you big dummy.” Chuck’s breath tickled his jaw along with a few messy curls, a welcome distraction. “It’s nice coming from you.”

“Wanna know what else would be nice coming from me, puppy?” Casey, with his hand already in a handy place, cupped Chuck’s left butt cheek hard enough to lift him off the ground. “Now can we get back to ... finishing up dinner?”

“Still ... hungry?”

“I can eat. Bet you can, too.” Casey let him know what by pressing in to slide his own cock against Chuck’s, rock hard though the denim.

Yeah, I feel that, kid. Wanna put it in my mouth, don’t you? I wouldn’t mind. Wouldn’t mind you lifting those hips to me while you whisper up to the sky, wanton words about how good it feels, how -

“Oh. One more thing,” Chuck said, smiling against Casey’s neck. Moving on his throat, his lips left soft, wet kisses mingled with hot breath. “Before ... dessert, Captain.”

It was getting harder to hold still. Did the hostage know he was going to get his freedom revoked if he kept doing that? Or was that what he was hoping for?

“You’ve tested every bit of my patience, kid,” Casey told him as shuffled on his feet, a move that gave him a nice rub up along a hard thigh. As Casey hoped, animal instinct took over. Chuck shuffled too, giving him one just as good, and they both exhaled together. Good boy, now you’re getting it. “This is your last question.”

“Are you going to need a first mate? You know, someone good with directions?”

“Nah, but know what I will need?” Before the kid could pull back to ask, Casey took Chuck’s hand and guided it between them, moving over the sheen of sweat that had gathered low on his belly, just above the pants. Not good enough. Not yet. He kept holding the kid’s hand until he felt Chuck mold his long fingers around him outside the pants, finally getting the message that he didn’t need to ask for permission.

“Let me guess,” Chuck said, nervousness tinging his attempt at humor. “Someone to design the boat?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Casey replied, pushing into that hand. “Maybe an obedient little cabin boy who can take orders and get the job done.”

“Wow – I guess I’m not the only one with an imagination,” Chuck said. Obviously, he was embarrassed to even think about it, so he had to hide his face, lowering his head to nuzzle the hollow of Casey’s throat. His fingers stayed busy, thankfully, stroking downward along the denim, his touch still loose enough though his hand was trapped between them. “You are a naughty man, John Casey, for putting ideas in my head.”

“Nothing wrong with it. Mmnn. Feel that,” Casey whispered, taking both hands around to clamp on his ass. “Feel how good ....”

The kid inhaled sharply but recovered, quick enough to show off some of that deftness by dragging cloth up and down in such a tight spot ...

.... and oh God the jeans had to go.

“Because I happen to know a guy who’s got that skill,” Chuck went on. “He’s really good with his hands.”

Each squeeze on Chuck’s ass made those fingers cup Casey like ripe fruit, so he kept doing it, getting a little rhythm going. “Is he good at anything else besides the hands?”

“Well, interesting that you ask,” Chuck replied, lifting his head to point that shy yet dazzling grin at him. “I heard he’s the kind that can learn to do about anything, given the right kind of motivation.”

“Yeah? Sounds promising – mmn.”

Chuck stiffened, surprised that he finally got a solid reaction. On the next trip down, he gave Casey’s length another little squeeze, and immediately Casey was grateful for finding a man with fingers with that kind of a span. “Maybe you should, ah, give him a try?”

“I might be able to give him a go,” Casey agreed, his voice husky at just the thought of it. He relocated the hand that had taken up residence on Chuck’s ass, trying to touch as much flesh as he could on the way to the front and down, and ended up landing on the kid’s buttons. “You seemed to have forgotten where we left off.”

“That’s because our new cat distracted you.”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Casey, did you just feed a stray?”

“It was just a piece of roast.”

“Well, guess what. We have a cat.”

“Are you sure you remember where we left off?”

“Okay, I might need to be reminded,” Chuck said, his lashes sweeping down as he watched Casey’s hand fumbling with a button.

“You were telling me how much you like buttercream.” Getting stripped always made him redden up down to his chest, so Casey looked up just to enjoy it for a second before working the next two fasteners.

“I was? Interesting. Usually I’m a strawberry pie man.”

“This dessert seemed to catch your eye,” Casey said as he felt the first three buttons disengage, the slight movement bumping his lips against Chuck’s.

Chuck nodded and sucked in a breath against Casey’s chin when a few fingers slid through sweat and pubic hair. “I ... could be convinced to try some.”

“Good thing I know a thing or two about convincing,” Casey pointed out. His hard prick snugged up tight against the front of his thigh. “Especially a tasty little cupcake like you.”

“Hey! I’m not an – ah.”

Casey’s hand was thwarted by the last two buttons he had tried to ignore, so now he could barely touch him at the root. It still seemed to get the sought after effect, since the kid closed his eyes and one hand flexed. “Take off your pants and get on the blanket,” Casey then told him.

“What?” Chuck had started to drag his hand along and upward, cupping his fingers like he knew what the fuck he was doing, but that stopped him cold. “Why?”

“And not on your hands and knees.”

“Well, that confirms it,” Chuck said, a hairsbreadth away from pouting. “Romance really is alive and well in Carteret County. Exhibit A. Right here.”

“Stretch out on your back.”

“Anything else, M’Lord?”

Casey had worked the last two buttons loose by now while the kid was busy yammering. He held onto his narrow hips and thrust into him, hoping to get the frown off his face, but it had little effect. So he was forced to go the hard-ass route. “Yeah, can the sarcasm, sweet cheeks. Before we do anything, I’m going to change that bandage.”

“But – but I don’t need it changed,” Chuck sputtered. “I’m fine. Besides, I thought we were -”

“Over here, Bartowski,” Casey ordered. When the kid didn’t move, he used his hold on the jeans to tug Chuck across the sand. There was some resistance; either his feet were sinking into the soft ground, or the prospect of being stripped for a clinical purpose had him digging in a little. “Lay down.”

“Why are we doing this?” Chuck asked. As Casey hauled him to the middle of the blanket, he stopped putting up a fight and walked along. “I told you I’m fine.”

“Because you can’t con a conman, kid,” Casey said. “I have noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“How you’ve tried to keep your upper thigh covered with your shirt this whole time?” Casey glanced lower to the area in question and his thumbs skimmed right under the waistband to the sensitive skin hidden by the fluttering shirt. “Leaving it untucked? Now hold still so I can get the pants off.”

Of course, Chuck folded his arms over his chest and tried to back up a step. “This is not how I envisioned things to go when I brought the blanket here.”

“You can tell me all about what you pictured when I’m done here,” Casey informed him.

“I’d – ah – rather do that now.”

“Heh. Uncross your arms.”

“I’m good.” Chuck frowned harder and kept his arms crossed.

Casey noted Chuck’s adamant stare, and showed Chuck why he was better at it.

“You can’t intimidate me,” Chuck said, suddenly needing to look at the water.

Casey grunted. “God, you are a little stubborn bastard.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll have to use other methods,” Casey said. “Like this.”

“Wait a minute –”

But with one hand still hooked in the kid’s pants, Casey rerouted the other up Chuck’s arm, stopping for just a second to explore where he knew there was a bruise two days ago. Hardly a bump anymore. His hand didn’t stop again until it was at the side of Chuck’s neck and he could pull him into a kiss because that little sulk needed to go. Like right now.

“Shut it and let me do this.”

The kiss was something Chuck had no intention of fighting, and he immediately clutched the front of Casey’s shirt and let him inside to glide along his tongue, his open mouth becoming softer, more yielding. So the distraction had to go further, and Casey just had to suck the kid’s bottom lip into his mouth, feel the way it swelled under his teeth, and do it one more time until he heard the tiny moan Chuck made.

There were a few moments of difficulty, but Casey had worked the pants down to the kid’s lower thighs before Chuck could pull back to blink at him. “Hey, wait, what are you doing? Listen, if you’re going to just look at the bandage, I’ll do this myself.”

“I can do it better,” and he waited for the kid to argue about that.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“You’ll have to stop me.”

“Oh.” Chuck snuck a glimpse at Casey’s chest and raked a hand through his hair. “I hate you sometimes.”

“Bandage first, cupcake. Then dessert if I think you’re up for it.” Casey smugly patted Chuck’s ass through the underwear he had carefully left up where they weren’t going to stay for long. “Now down on your back, brown eyes.”

There was no argument, particularly as Casey put a hand on the kid’s chest and pressed him flat against the blanket before kissing him again. Getting him on his back had a purpose that wasn’t nearly as fun, but Casey couldn’t resist to first stretch over that long body without his weight on him, their upper torsos touching. It did confirm one thing. The same spike of arousal that had Casey’s cock stiff made Chuck’s heart hammer through the thin cotton shirt. At least his boyfriend realized not everything happening on this blanket tonight would be clinical.

Casey lowered his head to nibble at his shoulder as far as the shirt would let him. That top would have to go next, but not before the examination.

“There? Was that so bad?” Casey asked, pulling away to grab his satchel next to the blanket. “Now let me take a look.”

“Sheesh, okay, okay,” Chuck mumbled. He levered up on his elbows to watch Casey then take hold of the jeans he had already unbuttoned, finishing the job by tuggin them down Chuck’s slender calves, ankles, and finally pulling them free. “I told you it was fine.”

“I see blood.” It was right there, dappling the top of the once-white bandage, so Chuck just peered down at it and closed his mouth without arguing. Casey began unraveling the dressing Ellie had apparently sealed with cement, but he stopped to cock one brow at his boyfriend. “Usually the sight of blood bothers you.”

“Usually it’s because I’m locked in a small space with a crazy person who wants to kill me. You’d be surprised what the threat of death does to the gory body fluid tolerance level.”

“It was only the one time,” Casey muttered, gently pulling the bandage free. “This might be easier if you stop wiggling your leg and just let me look.”

Chuck gave him a smart-ass smile and crossed his ankles, trying to pretend he was indulging Casey when they both knew he had no say-so. “I guess I’m all yours, doctor. But do you mind making it quick? I do have plans tonight with my boyfriend.” And since Casey had straddled Chuck’s legs, one of the kid’s calves slid up Casey’s pant leg to remind him what those plans were. “I hear he’s been lonely. Sad, really.”

“You’re nothing but trouble,” Casey said a little huskily.

“Oh? Am I a bad patient?” Chuck’s calf, now firmly lodged between Casey’s thighs, began to rub up and down, back and forth in an absurdly tight place. “What else should I be doing, doctor?”

“I’ll be showing you in about thirty seconds from now if you hold still,” Casey grumbled, looking over at that naughty smile. Who even knew the kid had it in him? Casey had to completely redirect his focus from his dick, lengthening down his pant leg, to the damn bandage the sister had tied like a noose. This couldn’t happen yet, mostly because of his personal vow to take care of him before he really took care of him. “Making it impossible to do my job, pancake.”

“Fine. I’ll just sit here innocently and watch the master at work.”

“Nothing innocent about your foot, darling.”

“Which foot?” It appeared that Chuck could be dexterous, and Casey knew that was true because it was the barest of movements, slow and deliberate over him, but he was using the rhythm and pressure to its full effect. “This one?”

“Son of a bitch, kid.” As the touch seared through him, Casey dropped the end of the bandage. The roll skittered over the blanket, unraveling as it spun.

“Did you drop something, John?” the kid asked.

“Hand me that, will you?”

Chuck gave a smug little grin and stretched an arm out for it. Funny that his leg had a need to stretch as well, up and in and oh fuck. “Here you go, doctor.”

“Mmn – little shit.” It would’ve been simple to just hold the kid’s leg down, but for some reason, he didn’t. “I’m trying to work here.”

“Oh, sorry.” Proving he sure as hell wasn’t, Chuck’s grin broadened as he played with the hem of Casey’s shirt. Right when Casey thought he would behave, the kid brought up his calf again in a slow, languorous drag. This time, his kneecap found a bulge, hard dick trapped in denim, and he played with that a little by rubbing his bent knee over it a few times. “Does that bother you, Oh Great Hippocrates?”

“Woulda tied you down if I knew you were this gumptious.” Casey’s hands got busy, however, and he poked a little around the stitches, finding that both doctors had done a good job, and it was only the messing around that might’ve made a little blood ooze out from the sutures. “I still can if you keep it up.”

“Thought that’s what you wanted?”

Casey grunted and gave the bullet wound a little closer examination. “Does this hurt?”

“No ... not really.”

Casey squinted down at him.

Chuck threw up one hand in exasperation. “All right, but just a tiny bit.”

“Hold still, kid.”

“It is ... okay, right?” Chuck asked, and his eyes took on a momentary sort of alertness, seriousness. He knew the worst turn of the day would be Casey making good on his pledge to take him home if the wound had ruptured. “Is it something you can handle? Or ... well ... I was really hoping ....”

“Yeah, I can handle it,” Casey told him, resisting a smile. “It’s not bad at all. I’ve got some phenol salve to put on it. Then I’ll wrap on a new bandage.”

As Casey turned to grab the satchel, he heard, “Thank God.”

“Were you praising my doctoring skills, kid? Or is there another reason you’re letting out a breath?”

“Well, I told you my boyfriend will be here soon, and he gets ornery when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“Bet you drive him crazy, then. All that talking you seem to like.” And dick teasing. Can’t forget that.

“He’s not much of a talker, true, but there’s nothing wrong with making him open up a little.”

Casey snorted. Reaching for a small metal tin in his pack, he got to work, feeling a pair of brown eyes watching every move. That delicious rubbing had slowed to almost a halt. Maybe Chuck had enough time to focus on his kneecap, the one he had pressed up against Casey’s cock, and the fact that he knew where Casey intended on putting that tonight brought back a little of that skittishness. “Must be a puny guy if you can make him.”

“No, he’s actually brawny, but I like to think I’ve dug deep enough to find the cotton candy under the – ow, ow, oops.”

“That hurt?”

“Uh, not at all. Really.”

Casey put his hands on his hips and just looked at him.

“All right.” Chuck heaved a dejected sigh. “I meant not too much.”

“Bartowski ....”

“John.” Chuck waited for Casey to stop glowering at him. “I’m a big boy and you have to trust me.”

Casey found himself locked in a staring match with a brown-eyed mule. He took a moment to appreciate how pretty the kid looked when he got that stubborn set to his jaw, and the way his rangy body tightened under him as if winding up for a skirmish. “What.”

That knee came up again, finding the obvious target, rubbing back and forth over it. Not forcing, only showing. “I promise if something hurts, I’ll tell you,” Chuck said.

Casey watched his face, eyes fastened, and no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, a small moan escaped his lips at the next stoke. “Okay, you little sneak. I trust you’ll tell me,” he said, carefully tying off the end of the bandage. “You’re all fixed up now. One more thing to take care of.”

Though he hated to do it, he had to shift his knees backwards some in order to plant a hand on the blanket, landing on the side of Chuck’s head. Then he had to take a second to stare down into a pair of dark eyes, startled yet ... curious.

“What?” Chuck asked, eyes trailing down Casey’s body.

Casey held out his other hand in front of Chuck’s face. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?”

“For services rendered, kid. You don’t think doctoring is free, do you?”

“Well, under the circumstances, I was hoping so.”

Casey rolled his eyes at that bit of naiveté. “Bandages, salve, not to mention skills fine as cream gravy. Five dollars should cover it.” When Chuck only stared dumbfounded at the empty palm under his nose, Casey clicked his fingers. “Now pay up.”

“I think you should know something,” Chuck said, giving a wary look at Casey’s palm as he waited to have it greased. “When I was kidnapped this evening, I was lucky to get out of there with pants and a shirt, let alone a wallet.”

Casey leaned in closer, positioned his face directly over the kid’s. “What’re you saying, cupcake?”

“I’m saying I don’t have any money.”

Casey tugged Chuck’s shirt up, soothing over the fine skin of his belly, pondering the options for a minute. “Got anything to barter?”

“B-barter?”

“Yeah, you know, tiger. Trade, tit for tat? You don’t expect me just to let you walk away, do you?”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing any walking tomorrow, so no,” Chuck mumbled out the side of his mouth.

Casey’s lips twisted into a smile. “Pretty to look at and smart. Lucky me. Well, what do you have to offer up, boyo?” His hand slid around Chuck’s waist and under him, clamping down on one buttock. “Hmm. Maybe you might have some wares on you I might be interested in ... if you are willing to barter.”

Chuck’s lips parted, just a faint gasp, as Casey ran a thumb down his crease.

“Now you’re thinking, brown eyes.” Casey couldn’t wait any longer. He bent to take a tiny bit of his payment, covering Chuck’s mouth with his.

This gasp he felt and tasted, Chuck’s breath pressing into his lips, the kid’s ass clenching where Casey’s hand explored, squeezed.

“You have a very odd class of currency, Doctor,” Chuck said, bucking away from that grip.

“Gotta test the merchandise before I enter into this bargain, don’t I?”

“So you weren’t looking for my wallet?”

“No, you weren’t lying about that,” Casey said. After giving one more clutch on that skinny ass, he brought his hand around to the front, up and under Chuck’s shirt as he pretended to assess him. “But you might just have something else I want.”

“I might?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Leaning one-armed over him, Casey stroked up his sternum, over to one pec to give it a pinch before moving to the other. Of course, he had to let his thumb graze a nipple on the way, and was satisfied when Chuck gave him an intake of breath. “You seem to have a lanky, willing body on you, kid,” he finally noted, giving it a measuring perusal. “Nice eyes, okay smile -”

“Hey – I thought you lov – liked my smile -”

“And legs long enough to wrap around me. Know how to use ‘em, goddess?”

“Well, I –”

“Good. So we have a deal?”

Chuck licked his lips as he thought about it, eyes on Casey’s mouth. As if that didn’t give away enough. Then he flicked a smile. “I think we can strike a bargain. Are you about done with your doctoring?”

“Only thing I didn’t do was kiss your boo-boo for you.”

“I can think of a few – oh, wow ....” Chuck murmured, running his hand up the straight arm Casey had planted on the blanket, stopping at a bicep. “Nice as I remember ....”

“Hey, eyes up here.”

“What?” Chuck’s eyes snapped up to him.

“A kiss from you won’t begin to cover it. I’ll need a helluva lot more, skinny ass. C’mere.”

Casey scooped a hand under Chuck’s head and lifted, fitting his mouth over the kid’s as Chuck automatically parted his lips. The kid had learned a few things, such as when Casey dragged his tongue lightly along his bottom lip, he wanted Chuck to let him in, deepen the kiss. So when those sweet lips gave him the perfect opening, Casey kissed with rougher intent, tongue pushing in, everything under him opening up with heat, wetness, and hungry little sounds that went straight to his cock.

When Casey pulled back, leaving the kid flat on his back and puffing, he had to smirk at how easy that was. By now, he knew what the kid liked, firm surfaces, hot skin, thick muscles, and he almost wished he’d yanked his shirt off all the way so that his lover could get an eyeful of every tendon and bulge before lying down, though Chuck would be stripping it off him in no time.

But what the hell ... why not let the kid use that wild imagination, with the help of taut cotton over his shoulders, to remind him of what he wanted? He did want it, didn’t he?

So Casey lowered his upper body, very slowly and deliberately over him with both hands on either side of Chuck’s upper arms. It was like being locked in a push-up, not that he minded, not with his eyes pinned on Chuck’s the whole time. With the kid’s fingers digging into his biceps, Chuck had to feel every tissue of his arm rolling and stiffening, giving way to the strength brimming underneath the skin. Yeah, I can give you everything you want. Just ask.

Chuck mouthed something like, holy ...crap. “You, my boyfriend, still have a hell of a body.” He smiled with that cute little crooked one. “Not that I was worried.”

Casey bent his elbows a little more in order to line up their lips. As much as he wanted to lift the kid’s good leg up to his chest and just bury himself to the hilt in Chuck’s ass, he simply arched his hips to rub up against him. Now, that’s what you really wanted, isn’t it, kid? Gonna ask yet?

“Must have a real fondness for my doctoring skills,” he rumbled against Chuck’s mouth.

Chuck blinked up at him. It was amusing to the larger man that the kid’s eyes had been momentarily focused on Casey’s wet lips again. “Is ... is that what you call it?”

“Or maybe it’s my barter that has your attention. Still need to figure out what I’m gonna take out of your hide, kid.” Casey’s arms remained rigid while his hips slowly dragged sideways, back and forth over the flimsy undershorts and more specifically, the hard cock that was jabbing him in the lower belly. “Feel that? Right there?” And since Chuck reflexively spread his legs a little, Casey was pretty sure he did. “You better be thinking about what makes me feel good. And then touch me like that.”

Chuck was apparently taking his time to decide where that was, instead just holding his arm and stroking his thumb over the rumpled sleeve. “I wouldn’t mind offering up payment,” he admitted, just watching him with a slight smile. “Uh, except maybe the doctoring you gave me was lacking in a few areas.”

“Really,” Casey said. “Like what?” He was so close over the kid’s face that he could smell the smokiness of the scotch when Chuck exhaled. The goosebumps that caused were not even possible before he met the young man sprawled out beneath him.

“Well.” The kid’s tongue snuck out, stuck between his teeth as he mulled over the question Casey had posed. “To be honest, doctor – and don’t take this the wrong way - you – ah – missed a fairly prominent ... symptom?”

“Prominent?” Casey bit down on a smile. Such a good boy, finally willing to tell him something. That earned him another nudge against said prominence. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, cupcake?”

Chuck gave him the stink-eye. “I happen to think it’s quite prominent. Conspicuous, even.”

Damn, it was, too, no arguing that, but it was much more fun to play with him a second or two longer, Casey decided. Positioned like this over the kid’s long body with their torsos barely touching had not even begun to make his muscles shake. Hell, he could stay here and tease him for another hour or so if he had to, arms caging him in, but the strain of not taking Chuck in his hand was the thing that was going to get him. One of them was going to give in first, because now Casey just wanted to fondle and grip and feel the flesh of that hard cock against his palm.

“Why don’t you tell me then, kid, what your real problem is?”

Not that Casey hadn’t noted it. The kid was vibrating. Then there were the sweaty palms, dry throat ... shit, kid. A school primer is harder to read.

“Are – are you sure you’re a doctor?”

“One that’s ready to collect.” Casey laid another light swish on him to prove his point. Or give him further motivation. “Am I distracting you, princess?”

“No, well, yes.” One of Chuck’s hands landed on Casey’s hip, the other on his thigh, but his eyes had that duck and cover look. “I ... I guess I don’t really have a problem.”

Casey huffed to himself. You were so close to telling me.

Chuck turned his head to look out over the sand towards the water, maybe giving himself the pause he would need to settle down and find some of that bravery that had slipped away.

“Chuck?”

“Hm?”

“Look at me,” Casey said. “Need to ask you something.”

Chuck’s lips pursed, but he took a deep breath and shook his head before he turned back to him. “Yeah?”

“Breathe. Let me ....” Casey lowered his head and his cheek, rough with the day’s growth, scraped gently over his forehead, making Chuck shiver. “What makes you feel good? Maybe I can touch you like that ... if you tell me.”

Chuck drew his thumb over Casey’s bottom lip, studying it before lifting his gaze. Then the kid flashed the brown eyes at him while his other hand flopped out to the side, letting sand run through his fingers. When he smiled that beauteous smile, Casey’s balls tightened, sending him up on his toes.

“Has anyone ever told you that, um, you have a really nice mouth?” Chuck asked.

Casey smiled and lowered his body, eyes drifting down to Chuck’s cock through his underwear. That was the best ‘ask’ he was going to get. And it was perfect, just like Chuck. “Yeah? How would you know?”

“I remember ... things.”

“Tell me what you remember.” No denying what this was doing to Casey. Just something as simple as having Chuck trapped under him, a little unsure how to ask yet hungry, made Casey ache to push into him deeper.

“I remember standing next to a fence,” Chuck replied. “At the farm ....”

“Your first lesson.”

“Hey, I prefer ‘encounter’.”

“Whatever suits you, kid,” Casey said. “But I think I know how I’m going to start collecting my first payment.”

“You ... do?” All those muscles clenched, went tight.

“Mmnn. I’ll show ya, puppy.” Casey lowered his head to take a taste of sweet scotch and the saltiness of his mouth. When Chuck swallowed hard, Casey felt his throat rise under his lips, because of course he was already working his way down that pale flesh on his neck, down to the warm hollow of his collar bone, trailing to the kid’s sternum.

“Wait. Did you say ‘first’ payment a minute ago,” Chuck asked. His voice shook a little. In a good, anticipatory way, and that put fire in Casey’s blood.

“Yeah, Bartowski.” Casey continued to kiss downward, the sprinkle of dark chest hair tickling his cheek. “Gotta get five dollars’ worth out of you.”

“Only, ah, five?”

Casey’s lips found the dip under his hipbone to tease. When the tip of his tongue got in the act, Chuck let out a breath and closed his eyes. His body was like a taut piece of barbed wire, waiting for electricity to bring him alive, to the feel of those warm lips drawing him in.

Feeling the reaction, Casey lifted his head and planted both hands on the blanket on either side of his waist. Always with the kid, teasing was too much temptation. “Should warn you, button, I haven’t decided how much this deal is worth. You might have to work off your debt for a solid week.”

“Sounds a bit ... strenuous, don’t you think?”

“Afraid those little muscles of yours might get a strain?” Casey moved downward again, pressing soft kisses over his ribcage, tasting his flat belly. “This one right here looks like it could use a workout.”

Chuck looked at him and put a palm on his forehead. “I might be up for it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Casey said, tugging the undershorts up one leg instead of down to reach in and cup his balls.

Chuck yelped, a pleasant noise, and his head landed with a thunk on the blanket. “Oh, God ....”

Casey dragged his hand back down the upper thigh that didn’t have a bandage wrapped around it, eyeballing the reaction and everything about Chuck’s body. He loved that Chuck had hair on his arms and legs, his chest, not like some hairless man-child. Hell of a body, actually. Angular yet broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs as long as country mile and something Casey wanted to travel before getting wrapped up in them.

“Maybe you’ll earn the first dollar on you back, stud. Then I’ll find out if you know any other tricks.” As Casey lifted the fabric of his shorts around his thigh, not at all what the kid expected, he bent down to kiss the soft flesh of his inner leg. Chuck automatically squirmed, and with every move of their bodies, the sand underneath molded around them, forming to their bodies like they would leave a sculpture in this strand of earth. “My intuition is telling me you had a bath this morning. You smell as sweet as you taste.”

“I thought you might appreciate me washing ... well, behind my ears.”

“Tell me that wasn’t all.”

Chuck looked up at the sky, thinking that would cover his blush. “Hah. Can you believe Ellie had a fit that I insisted on doing it myself? I had to promise to leave the door unlocked in case I fell.” He sighed and rubbed his neck, a signal that he was headed somewhere serious. “I needed to wash ... all of that away. After spending almost a week, well ....”

Christ. Liam. Would that freak every get the poison out of his mind? It prompted Casey to remember he was still dealing with a victim.

Well, maybe it was time to get Chuck out of his head for a while. And Casey knew just the way to work the fidgets out of him.

“This isn’t going to be anything like the last time, hostage,” Casey breathed out over his stomach, his warm exhalation making Chuck’s dick strain towards him through the underwear. “You’re here now. Safe ... I’ll take good care of you.”

When Casey glanced up, he was relieved to see the kid had a small smile pointed up at the sky before tipping his head to look at him. One hand came down to play in Casey’s hair. “I knew you’d be back tonight to get me. Morgan did, too, by the way.”

“Glad the troll made use of himself,” Casey said. Reaching up, his fingers slid around the kid’s wrist, and he held it down to the blanket to get it out of the way. He wanted to control this part for now, taking care of him like he said he would. He let the kid know by grazing a thumb over the pulse, back and forth. “Never doubt me.”

“Never again, Casey.”

Chuck lifted his shoulders to make eye contact, or maybe to watch Casey’s hand skim over the fabric, lightly, tracing the outline of his cock. “Damn ... that’s ....” and Casey got another thrust that bumped Chuck’s cock against his ear.

“You were going to tell me what you wanted,” Casey said in a ghost of a breath along his stomach.

Those dark eyes watched as Casey continued to trace up and down. Chuck’s lips parted. His chest hitched. “Aren’t I just the hostage in this scenario?”

“Something you seem to have a hard time remembering.” Casey ran one hand under Chuck’s buttock and squeezed him through the undershorts. He felt how the kid’s ass tightened, and he wanted to get between those cheeks with his fingers and cock, to remind him why he needed to loosen up, but he had all night to coax him one step at a time.

Starting with sliding his hand into the undershorts to cup his cock, lifting it.

“Hey, mmnh – you – you should know,” Chuck said, quietly panting, “that belongs to m-”

“Your boyfriend,” Casey said sternly.

Chuck wrinkled his brow. “And he can be quite a possessive jerk, so that’s your warning.”

Casey noticed he didn’t argue the point of ownership, however, so he ran a hand over the jut of one skinny hipbone. “Yeah? And I thought you knew who the captive was tonight. Don’t have to remind you, do I?”

“It ...ah, depends.”

“Depends?” Casey asked. Now his fingers covered a sweet, long cock, the flesh filling and weighty like heaven in his palm. “On what?”

“Oh ... shit,” Chuck mumbled. The stretched cotton fabric rose and bobbed, and as Casey molded his hand around him again, he felt the same reflexive tightening. “Um ... on how these reminders will work. You know, I ... might need a few?”

Casey studied that face in the dark and almost laughed, but the kid was being serious. Someone had made the decision to come and play a little. He smiled to himself as he waited for Chuck to look away or cough. He did, too, but only for a second of wavering.

That was more than half of Chuck’s beauty, right there. His willingness to please him, explore with him, even when his own physical reaction and urges frightened the kid enough to tremble.

To hell with pretense, Casey decided. “There, you see? Being kidnapped by me isn’t so bad, is it?” He smiled, lifting his hand to rub Chuck’s lower belly. “You wanna please me, don’t you? Pay off your debt?”

“I ....” Those eyes watched his hand, making wider circles as it skimmed over the bulge, now trapped again in his shorts. “Mm ...yes.”

“Good.” Casey’s eyes traveled over all that pale skin, gangly muscles laid out like a picnic on the blanket. And God he was hungry. “There’re a few lessons right off hand you might need.”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Four Where the Road Ends-x-


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

That was more than half of Chuck’s beauty, right there. His willingness to please him, explore with him, even when his own physical reaction and urges frightened the kid enough to tremble.

To hell with pretense, Casey decided. “There, you see? Being kidnapped by me isn’t so bad, is it?” He smiled, lifting his hand to rub Chuck’s lower belly. “You wanna please me, don’t you? Pay off your debt?”

“I ....” Those eyes watched his hand, making wider circles as it skimmed over the bulge, now trapped again in his shorts. “Mm ...yes.”

“Good.” Casey’s eyes traveled over all that pale skin, gangly muscles laid out like a picnic on the blanket. And God he was hungry. “There’re a few lessons right off hand you might need.”

Chuck tucked his other hand behind his head to look up at him. “A few?”

“Yeah, you know,” Casey said, halting to study that cocky look on the kid’s face. Confidence could look good on him. “More than once.”

“Well, repetition is a valuable exercise in learning to solve aeronautic equations,” Chuck noted with a wisecrack. He was always a quick study. It only took a second before he moved his hips down the blanket so that they were more aligned with Casey’s mouth rather than his shoulders. “So maybe the same approach applies – ow! Biting! No biting!”

“Well, here’s the first reminder.” Casey looked up from the kid’s inner thigh to the target now under his nose, then ran his knuckles down Chuck’s ribcage. “I probably need less sass and more of this. Wanna try lying still and shutting up?”

Chuck sucked in a breath and his stomach instinctively jerked away. “Oh, I see how it works with you. Torture.”

“Still ticklish, I see,” Casey noticed. He pinched him in the same place to test and got the same reaction. “Jumpy as a cat tied to a railroad track.”

“Ah! Well. Sort of ... ticklish,” Chuck conceded, swatting at his hand.

“Sort of? Like being sort of a virgin, isn’t it? Might have to test that theory next.”

Chuck folded one arm over his belly. “No tickling.”

Casey chuckled at the lack of resistance to test the other mentioned idea. “Yeah, you’d like it, too, wouldn’t you?” he growled as he got up on his knees and rested one hand on the blanket next to Chuck’s head. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you about your torture, hostage, but you need to listen up.”

Chuck, in the middle of running a hand up Casey’s thick arm, paused to glance up at him with furrowed brows. The kid was beginning to catch on to a certain tone of voice, a certain seriousness, though it had taken getting him flat on his back to get him to focus. “What is it?”

Casey tipped his head up towards the house before giving in to the urge to card his fingers through that wacky hair. It also served the purpose of tilting Chuck’s head up to really meet him in the eyes. “I brought you here to take care of you, and I meant it -”

“I know, and trust me, I’m -”

“No, shut up and listen,” Casey said. Not harshly, but then again, he never had to raise his voice to get anyone’s attention. “I know you’re healing and you’re going to tell me you’re feeling fine. That nothing’s getting to you. But I can see your leg is still fucked up –”

“But it is fine. It was just a little ... well, blood.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “This isn’t just about your leg, either.”

Chuck considered it for a moment and continued to slide his hand up Casey’s arm, rounding over the swell of one bicep. “I know that, too.”

“Smart boy.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Chuck’s fingers closed around his muscle and gave him a little squeeze.

“If ... anything hurts tonight, your damn leg or anything else, you’re going to tell me about it.”

“My, my, my how the stone-clad have softened.”

“You did hear the thing about shutting the fuck up about me?” he asked a little gruffly.

Chuck shifted his gaze to Casey’s eyes as if he could read right though them. Hell, knowing the kid, he probably could. He seemed to know that things like caring for anyone else had never mattered to Casey before, even himself. So Chuck must know that the admission tonight had to be like a vulnerable chasm opening within Casey, something that he would only see as an uncomfortable yet necessary evil.

You before everything, before human need and burning ache.

“Got that, kid?”

Chuck let his hand fall to the blanket and glanced to the side, up the stairs that led to their home. “I got it. I’m not going to try and convince you I’m fine if I’m not. I know you’re going to insist on taking care of me, and for now I’m going to let you. You always have to take responsibility for stuff, I get that, too.” He returned his gaze to him, his eyes dark pools that Casey knew he would drown in every day from here on out. “But when the time comes, and our lives are back to normal – whatever that is - things between us will even out. It will be me taking care of you, too, and you’ll have to let me.”

Casey wasn’t lying when he said he’s a smart kid, but he wondered if Chuck really understood what he had committed to. So much of Casey’s life he considered broken and needing to be fixed.

Fortuitous, then, he found a kid good with tools, his hands; he just never expected him to reach into his flesh and bones, to hammer and stitch and never give up.

Casey nodded his head. “We have an agreement then, hostage,” he said, a grin easing back on to his face. Focusing on a more tangible subject, he stroked Chuck’s stomach and bent his head, kissed him softly. “Now, we’ll start here. None of this hurts, does it?”

Chuck smiled and his fingers clenched into Casey’s arm. “No, no, no. F-fine from my end.”

He had that cute little stutter. Nice how the kid got off-balance and unsure, anticipating ... something.

Still, Casey cocked his head at him. “Told you I’m being careful. Just wanna hear it.”

Chuck, resigning himself to the cross-examination, put a palm in the air. “You have my word. And stop thinking about me being a ... just a little hurt, okay?” Then his teeth sank into his bottom lip, and his fingertips scrubbed over Casey’s shoulder. “I want to ... well .... I want to. Um, now if you don’t mind ..?”

Don’t mind? Casey had to press his lips together for a moment since he wasn’t sure how his laugh would be interpreted by the kid. “Always a polite boy. Got your best manners on, don’t you, pancake?”

Even when you’re asking for your cock to get sucked. Though you haven’t really asked yet, have you?

“You should try it sometime,” Chuck replied, smiling as he just watched Casey preparing to lay down by straightening one edge of the blanket. “But this is a non-issue with my leg, and I didn’t want you to think I was forcing the ... what is so damn funny?”

“You, muffin.” Casey smirked and landed on his knees next to Chuck’s bare midriff. “There are some things about you that haven’t changed.”

“I’ve changed,” Chuck said, trying to look like he had by relaxing his shoulders into the plaid blanket. The tension made his leaner muscles stand out, however, a characteristic the kid would think was a curse though Casey saw it as sexy as hell. “You don’t ... um, give me enough credit.”

“Yeah?” Casey ran the back of his hand down the kid’s ribcage, lightly, and even that caused a slight hitch. “Still can’t tell me what you want,” he said. “Even now....”

“I like to think that some things are pretty obvious.”

A low groan answered that point, because hell, the pretty hard-on sure was. “And you like to get my attention -”

“Me? I wouldn’t even know ... how to get another man’s attention.” As Casey eyed him, the kid’s quiet bashfulness and propriety had his muscles winding tight all the way down legs. The effect drew Casey’s eyes over him, doing exactly what the kid denied. “Besides, I’ve had enough letdowns, okay?”

“Really.” Casey’s attention flicked briefly up, lingered on his mouth, the line of his shoulders, his lean chest, down to the tented undershorts. Son of a bitch, yes. “The only thing you don’t have a clue of, brown eyes, is what to do when you have it.”

Because no one could be that calculating, especially cupcake here, it must be just clueless design and the luck of the gods, the way the kid unintentionally used exactly what Casey liked to look at to rivet his attention. Accidental, all right, the way he had tipped his head back to first look at Casey and then gaze at the stars with the same potent admiration, lengthening his neck and torso and shaking the damp hair away from his temple.

Nothing like an oblivious long-legged vixen to get his dick even harder.

Chuck smiled and stretched a little more, rolling his shoulders into the blanket, probably enjoying the way the sand under it molded around his upper back. Good thing, too, since Casey planned on leaving some interesting indents for them to find in the morning. “You know what this reminds me of?” the kid asked, moving his intentness from the sky to stare up at him.

“What’s that, tiger?”

“A story.”

Casey wanted to either bury his head in the sand, or Chuck’s. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he said.

“No, I’m not.” The kid lobbed up one of those smiles, dazzling him, and now Casey had to pay attention no matter what. “You’ll like this one.”

Casey snorted at the possibility of that. “I’m going to stop you if I don’t. Kidnapper’s prerogative.”

“Okay, deal.” Chuck hesitated and brought up his left knee, keeping his injured leg straight, and put a hand over his stomach. It accentuated the bulge, and the fact it was the only thing keeping him from being naked. “I was just lying here thinking of the evening after we returned to the farm. Being on the run from ... Liam.”

Casey hated to hear that name, so he pretended not to. “I think I remember, Bartowski,” he replied. He was on his knees next to him, looking down, and put one hand on the one the kid had splayed over his stomach. “What about it?”

“Well ... it was nice. Kind of like this. You, uh, took me down to the creek. Remember? We had been on the trail for five days. We ... sat on the rock and .... “ He cleared his throat. “We washed up.... Pear soap and cool water from the creek ....”

Casey couldn’t help it, he grinned. “Slippery skin kind of made up for the cold.”

“And then we got out and dried off on a blanket.”

“I carried you there. You used to squirm a lot more, cupcake,” Casey observed.

“And you listened about as well as you did tonight. When I asked you to set me down?”

“Is this story going somewhere?” Casey pressed down just a little on that splayed hand and spread his fingers out over kid’s, pleased that his hands measured up. “’Cause I have things to do.”

“You do, huh?” Maybe to placate him, he began to stroke Casey’s hip with the palm not trapped on his belly. “Well, you wanted to know what ... I like?”

“You didn’t seem like you wanted to tell me,” he answered, lowering his thumb to trace next to the kid’s bellybutton, just a little circle. “Rethink your position, kid?”

Chuck shook his head, still smiling, and there was no way he could fake that kind of shyness. The hand dropped from Casey’s hip and he ruffled his own hair, curls flopping. “No ... but I was just thinking ... I liked the way you took care of me. That evening at the creek.”

“What about it, eh?” Either the kid was getting to be a better storyteller, or Casey’s dick was reading ahead in the plot because he felt it lengthen in his jeans.

“Mm ... after you dried me off, we laid on the blanket .... It was nice. Water bubbling over the rocks ... the sun was just setting over Thunder Butte. It was right over your back so when you laid down next to me, it was like lying next to a campfire at night. Kind of ... glowing, you know?”

Casey drew a few more circles on his skin, listened to the wind and the surf, waiting.

“I never felt that warm ... even in the hottest summer day in the canyon, but this was good warmth. Something I wanted.” Chuck pushed his hair off his forehead and sighed. “Like now.”

Fuck, long legs. Maybe you do know exactly what you’re doing. And if this was a seduction, Casey was playing along.

“Was that the end of the story, kid?” Casey touched Chuck’s wrist and slid his hand up lightly to his forearm, like, go on ....

“Well, you kissed me.”

“I did, huh?”

“Yep ... right here.” And Chuck very deliberately brought his hand up and touched his own lips.

Casey looked down into his upturned face, and he knew the kid was beckoning in his own geeky way. “There, eh?” He leaned down and re-enacted the most virtuous part of the story, at least from the chunk he recalled. The kiss was soft, the gentlest kind, and when Casey pulled back, just barely, he looked straight into a pair of shining eyes.

Chuck gave a tell-tale glance to Casey’s mouth and smiled. One hand slipped up to smooth over a muscle under Casey’s shirt, and then gradually he brought it up to touch his own neck, just pressing a few fingers to the delicate curve of his throat. “And here ....” he said.

Casey narrowed his eyes at that innocent smile and followed the unspoken orders. Lowering his head, he moved downward so that the ends of his hair grazed over the straight jaw, and dropped a kiss on the kid’s neck.

“Oh ... okay ... If I recall, then you kissed me here.” Chuck flashed his eyes quickly at him as he swept his fingers down to the middle of his sternum. “Or ... thereabouts.”

Now that Casey could rule out that the kid was directionally challenged, he bent his head and kissed him over the breastbone. Damn, he was sweetly perspiring already, and the saltiness just fed into the ideas of the murky possibilities tonight.

As he pulled back, he heard Chuck swallow hard. “I think, ah, here, too,” the kid said, his palm resting on his abdomen.

“I think you forgot something,” Casey told him. While Chuck had his mouth open in surprise, Casey picked up Chuck’s hand and placed it on one of the kid’s pecs. He bent his head and pressed his lips first to the swell of muscle, coursing over to the left nipple to lick, nip it with the edge of his teeth. “Something like that.”

Chuck arched, moving instinctively toward his lips, begging for sensation. So Casey answered him. He wrapped his mouth around one bitty point of skin and tugged, sucking hard. Oh, the kid liked that. Deep, raw little sounds poured out of Chuck, those hands hard in his hair. So sweet, pancake. God, that was ... shit, making him just as rigid. He moved to the other nipple, sucking hard at it, too.

“I don’t ... oh. Oh ... you – ah – seem to have a fondness for d-details I may have omitted.”

“I don’t forget things like that, kid.” Casey had shaved early that morning, and now the tiniest amount of rough stubble rasped against the smooth skin of the kid’s belly. “Didn’t I kiss you here as well?”

“Ow – scratchy, scratchy – ticklish!”

“Anything else in this story I mighta missed?”

It built the hunger in his gut to see the flicker of lashes go lower, down his body. “Well, ah, there is one thing.”

There was only one logical response to that. Casey bent his head and sucked the tip of that one thing right over the cotton fabric, making it spring up and follow his tongue. Hard as fuck and beautiful, every inch.

“Shit ....” Chuck bucked up off the blanket.

It shot a current of reaction through Casey, so he decided with the extra protection from the undershorts, if there was ever a time to bite him there, now would be it. Gently, or course. So he did.

“Ohfuckfuckfuck,” Chuck began to ramble. “You can ... please take them.”

Casey agreed that these shorts would have to go in a minute, but watching the kid slowly unravel, knowing he had wondered and wanted, at least over the past four months, to feel this again was too much temptation not to take a minute to appreciate it.

“Know something, pancake?” Casey asked. “I don’t think the story went quite like that.”

“I don’t ... I really think ....”

The shift of his body over the blanket told Casey that Chuck was trying hopelessly to get his shorts down. Hard to do since Casey already had his hands on them.

“Lift up,” Casey demanded against Chuck’s tense lower abdomen, and Chuck obeyed. The scrap of fabric barely holding his cock in got yanked down far enough to be disengaged from his hips and upper thighs. Several inches of achy length, trapped under cotton, came into view. Fuck. They were on a blanket, as good as a bed, what in the hell was making them grapple like two virgins in a hayloft? “Huh. Now that looks like a serious symptom.”

“Serious?” His stiff cock bobbed free, that pretty little curve pointing like the goddamn North Star overhead. Good enough to guide a sailor right in.

“You had something else all along that you needed me to look at - and never told me, brown eyes?”

“Well, it appears your doctoring skills are lacking then, because that ah, symptom should’ve been pretty obvious to a man of your ... experience.”

“Are you going to be able to hold still for the examination?”

“Um, honestly?” The kid put a hand on the blanket, stretched his back and shot him a lazy-ass smile. “It may depend on you, but my guess is no. Not a chance.”

“You guess?” Casey laughed softly as his hand drew to the inner side of his thigh, letting him accidently brush up against the kid’s balls. His erection was close to his hand; he thought he could feel heat through his fingers. “Like you forgot, puppy?”

“Oh ... wow ....” Hell, this will be fast. One brush and Chuck was already not listening.

“Still not telling me what you want.”

Chuck touched Casey’s shoulder and arched his hips up a few inches, and then Casey got goosebumps as an answer. With his head lowered, Casey eased his tongue down Chuck’s sternum, his stomach, to his achy groin, just as he had been silently directed to do so. “Here ....”

“Yeah?” See, he can take directions when it counts.

“You want to, don’t you?” he heard Chuck mumble. “You ... want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“That’s kind of the point of being here, kid.” Casey left it at that and went back to leaving wet kisses lower, trailing down his inner thigh, moving his lips nearer to the base of his cock. It amazed him that the kid still didn’t sound sure of himself, like he couldn’t just come out and say it.

That’s why there was body language, he supposed. Chuck knew this language, proving it by sliding long fingers splayed into Casey’s hair, roaming and touching. And then a little push at the back of his head brought him lower.

“Luckily, your doctor believes this is going to be an easy fix,” Casey growled, his voice barely audible over the sound of water licking the sand. He turned his head, and the kid’s stiff cock was right there, waiting for him to get it wet. “Definitely something I can take care of on my own ....”

“I suppose ... you can try ....” Another arch of his hips bumped against Casey’s jaw, soft and hard and a little beg all at once. “But if I need to call a real doctor – like Devon – you’ll let me know I sup – ow! Hey!” Chuck’s startled intake of air was followed by a laugh. “Biting isn’t nice!”

“Then shut the hell up about Devon, and let me do my job.”

“I love that you call it that, Casey,” Chuck said, grinning down at him, the smart aleck variety.

“Want me to gag you?”

Instantly, the grin was replaced with a nervous eye-shift. Good. “Not really.”

“Then let me just do this.” Casey reached up and gripped the thick root of his cock, wrapped his fingers around the prize. It was long and lanky, much like the kid’s body, pink skin over hard-as-rock flesh.

“You ... seemed to like the story, after all ....” Chuck panted, watching him with pupils the size of grapes.

Casey was about to make another comment about the kid’s storytelling when he decided – much to his annoyance – that he was the one who couldn’t hold back any longer. While his lips skimmed over the actual indent of Chuck’s belly, another reminder he would get some weight on the kid’s bones, his fingers grasped a handful of undershorts rumpled around Chuck’s thighs, and he finally got the damn things out the way completely by tugging them past his ankles.

A naked Chuck was a good thing. A naked Chuck stretched out on a blanket under a sky that looked painted was the best thing since warm strawberry pie with fresh cream, Casey decided right there on the spot.

Then he just exhaled and ran a thumb around the ridge, breathed out over the smooth, rounded tip an inch from his mouth. Not waiting any longer, he touched his lips to it, opened his mouth around the crown, and just tasted him. The skin there was velvet and softer than the kid’s belly, even tighter somehow. Casey briefly closed his eyes and breathed in. The kid’s scent was heavier here, woodsy, stronger, and Casey clenched from belly to balls as his own system was filled with it, deep in his groin.

“Oh ... wow. Mmnp. I’m feeling a little better ... but ... oh ....”

“Just a little, huh?” That was something Casey could fix.

“Um, is this where my kidnapper ... tries to torture me?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll start right here. Hold still.” Since the kid had no chance of following that order, Casey opened his mouth further and slid down almost as far as he could, his tongue cupped and molding easily around the curved surface. And since he knew the kid was paying attention, he left a few pointers along the way, stopping to swirl his tongue around the hard flesh a few times. Maybe give him a little of the what and how Casey would like done for him in the very near future.

“Mmhh ... you should ... oh yeah, like that ....” Chuck’s head snapped back, the heat and pleasure and wet more than he could bear. His hips bucked up, pushing him deeper into Casey’s lips. Casey grunted, sucking all the way down to where his fingers were wrapped and pressing hard. He could feel the kid’s hot breath, every inch of his skin tingling.

“That’s ... it ....”

He wanted to hear those little pleas and encouragement, so Casey pulled back and went down again, not sucking him yet, just sliding, tasting. When he heard Chuck gasp, Casey repeated the looping tongue swish movement around the broad head to see if he could get another one out of him. It worked.

“Oh, God ...right there ....” Chuck murmured, hips raising in a herky-jerky move. Casey pictured him with his eyes closed, biting on his bottom lip, but he had to tip his head to be sure. It surprised him, then, that those dark eyes were locked on him, watching him like he had paid for the front row in the matinee.

“Like that kid? Like watching me suck you down?”

“Gmp. Come on ... do that – again....”

Casey’s mouth watered at that sweet, little begging, and he took a bit more of him that time. The kid was hung pretty well, Casey knew that much already, and if he had to hold Chuck’s hip down eventually to keep the kid from getting too zealous, he would. But feeling his cock in his mouth was almost as good as hearing those noises and filthy moans he was working out of the kid.

“Getting it wet for you, puppy ... like that?” Casey whispered, right before he took him down again. The skin tasted ... clean, like light soap, and Casey almost smiled around him thinking how nicely Chuck had washed himself up. Knew my lips would be here, didn’t you?

“I ... d-daydreamed about this, you know –ah,” Chuck blurted a second later, confirming it. “But – oh, oh, don’t worry, it was about you.”

Casey moved his mouth to draw his tongue over the slit, his own salvia and Chuck’s pre-come slippery against his tongue.

“God, God ... It – it was nothing like this, Casey.”

Casey’s lips dragged down along the surface – far enough, he thought, feeling that tug at the back of his throat - and he drew back up, making a nice smacking sound when he momentarily let him go. The appreciative chorus from the kid, grunts and whimpering mumbles, went on while Casey’s own ears were ringing with the rush of blood that sucking cock always gave him.

“Thinking about it ... ah, especially about your – your – ah! boyfriend isn’t cheating, is it?”

If he didn’t know better, he was about to hear how well that other guy in Chuck’s daydream did. Time to double down on the action.

“JesusJesus ... that’s so ... okay. Listen ... not to say you weren’t proficient or anything like that, oh, you were ... trust me. .. ah, ohcrap, but how can daydream Casey do anything like this? Hey, you’re not off - oh – offended that I objectified your body or anything like – like that?”

Casey didn’t bother to answer since his mouth was a little busy. But he wanted to tell him being part of the kid’s dreams was one of the best terms of endearment, ever, in history, save for two days ago when the kid told him he, well ... yeah that word. The one that usually, every other time, eats you from the inside and leaves you breaking leather with your bare hands. Begins with L and ends with everything all fucked up, right?

Except the one time that maybe it didn’t.

It still stuck in Casey’s mind like a lodged-up beaver dam, mostly because when Chuck said it, there at the planation, in the musty, dim, dining room, his chest had jumped but his own lips remained frozen.

Dumb bastard.

You have to one of these days ... say it.

Not now, however.

“Mngh ... the other guy ... though ... he sucked a little ... when he did it?”

Christ. All this worthless thinking, and the first thing that goes to shit is basic technique. Well, hearing that, it was almost like his brain and mouth became the playground bully. You want sucking, kid? I’ll show you sucking ... you’ll be running home to your momma squealing after I show you how to suck.

The next time down, Casey drew in his cheeks on the way up. It required a little more finesse to both suck and drag as he took Chuck’s cock, so he loosened his lips on the trip down, asking for another one of those cute little groans. Then he did it one more time, like this, sucking harder on the way up his shaft to the head.

“That’s ... oh, you’re good ... or bad. Verrry bad for this ...I don’t mean stop, okay? Okay ... shit. Dang teeth, dang teeth. No, that doesn’t mean stop – gently, gently ....”

Okay, maybe his technique was still rough around the edges – hard, curved, pretty edges – but Casey was fairly certain he could be good and safe about lightly smoothing the nib of his teeth halfway down and back up if that was what the kid liked.

Carefully, though. After all, he had plans for those goods between his lips, and the last thing he needed was a scrape that went past the threshold pleasure.

“Oh,” Chuck huffed and lifted his hips. “That’s it ... don’t – don’t stop. Please don’t st-stop?”

All right. Maintaining the pressure and suction, Casey found that Chuck actually did have girth enough to make his jaw ache a little, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t trade that for some pencil dick who didn’t have enough sense to thrust up into his mouth on the down stroke. Shit, like that. The stretch to his jaw muscles was a pleasant ache, too, and there was no complaint on Casey’s end for keeping the suction or his lips tighter around Chuck’s rigid staff while the kid tried to arch into him.

It was half the fun to watch, so he tilted his head back enough to look up at Chuck. When their eyes met, Casey slowed down and went back up, sliding down and exhaling through his nose, concentrating on nothing but the cock in his mouth and the dark gaze pinned to him, watching in a sexy, blurry fascination of heavy-lidded eyes.

By all estimates, the kid was enjoying Casey’s re-acclimation to the dirtier side of things. He had his bottom lip caught between his teeth in some kind of attempt not to whimper, but a second later he found that wasn’t working. The kid’s mouth dropped open in a low, hungry moan and his hand clutched into the blanket. “Casey .... Casey ... “ he breathed out. “Oh ... God ... you can suck ... there’s ... what do you call that that thing with your – oh fuck, finger – nngh ....”

Casey made fine noises as well, low, deep rumbles, while moving to his tight little pucker, pressing in and out with just the tip of his finger. Where the fuck was the slick, anyway? Satchel, right?

Chuck might be surprised by the revelation, but Casey wasn’t planning on spending a lot of time on round one. He could if he wanted to, hell, he could teach the hostage a whole other meaning for the kind of delicious torture his mouth could impart. Hours, kid. Hours if I fucking wanted to. You’d love it, too ... afterwards, after the part where you’d want to kill me for me that.

But experience with Chuck’s body and the way the kid was wired told him he never truly got loose until that first orgasm simmered him down to the point of familiarity and dropped inhibitions.

After giving him a few more round trips up and down, Casey didn’t need his pocket watch to know that this was going to go fast. He liked to think it was skillful and calculated, but it really was just one hell of a blow job that happens when the giver just stopped thinking and lets the other senses take over. Temperature, pressure, and tuning into those sounds. Especially those sounds.

“Oh, fuck. Casey ... John ... you should know ... oh, God.”

Then Chuck gasped. Casey didn’t drop him, not all the way, but he did lift his head high enough because he really wanted to remember what it was like when Chuck comes.

That hand in the blanket was the first dead give-away. Chuck’s fingers took bunches of it in pulsing grips now. He glanced down, noticing only for a second that Casey was watching him.

“Damn ... damn Casey ... I’m ...this is not ... you might want to rethink ... oh god.”

The kid’s eyes went shut again, and he clenched his teeth, hissing as Casey felt the first thin stream of semen. Then a thicker one, and another hit his jaw, only because after the first misfire, Casey had the lucidity to pull off and really eyeball the kid as his world seemed to tighten and spin. Swapping his mouth with his hand, Casey continued to pump him, up and down, letting the last beads dribble over the kid’s trembling stomach and groin.

“Oh my God,” Chuck whispered, slapping a hand on his forehead. It was wet with perspiration, so the curls stood up and waved. “What ... the hell.”

“You approved, I guess.” Sitting up on his knees, Casey grabbed the nearest cloth – Chuck’s undershorts, fine, since he wouldn’t need those for the next few days – and wiped off his jaw and the kid’s belly. “Aim hasn’t improved, I see,” Casey informed him, and then he smiled, hoping the kid would open his eyes.

After a few moments of gulping air, Chuck let his eyes drift open, nothing more than brown, wary, slits. He tilted his chin down at the milky mess scattered over his upper thigh that Casey hadn’t wiped yet, even dribbling near the bandage. “Either I owe you a good bottle of scotch or an apology,” he mumbled, still loose-lipped and faltering. “Sorry, okay?”

Casey leaned over him and snickered. “What the hell are you sorry for?” Because after that show, his dick throbbed. Right then and there, he vowed to see it happen again soon. And a lot in the next week ... or forty years or so.

“I think you just got firsthand knowledge of why you should never go away for four months ... I’m just sorry it had to be across the ... well, cheek. Again, sorry.”

Casey shook his head and removed the hand Chuck had on his forehead so that he could see his entire face, especially the blush that came with it. “Listen, cupcake,” and after a second he touched the kid’s wrist, thumb brushing over his flushed skin. “Didn’t get me in the eye, did you?”

“Well, no, but -”

“Then don’t be sorry.”

“It was also ... kind of, er, fast.” Chuck sighed at himself, his body nothing but a wobbly, gangly sprawl across the blanket. Pretty as all hell, too. “But I put the blame for that squarely on your shoulders, buster.”

“Guilty as charged.” Casey smiled and lined up his face over his sprawled lover’s, close, and the peacefulness in the kid made everything unloosen for once. “Going to scoot over and give me some room?”

Chuck returned the smile, shifted his shoulder, and then patted the spot he had freed up. “I saved it for my boyfriend.”

“Your kidnapper doesn’t mind. He’s taking it anyway.”

“My kidnapper can be a bit pushy, I guess. Maybe he hasn’t met my boyfriend.”

“He sounds like a helluva guy if he puts up with you.”

“Honestly, he can be a bit of an asshole. Better get over here before he sees you, Mr. Kidnapper.” Chuck’s hand grasped at Casey’s shirtfront and helped him on the way down. After Casey had settled on his back, it took only a second for that curly head to find the perfect crook of Casey’s arm to use as a pillow.

“Good?”

The kid wriggled one shoulder and finally just heaved a satisfied sigh. “Sure, but I’m almost worried about my kidnapper’s other demands.” He slanted a wary look to the side. “Um, he does have other demands? Tonight?”

Casey pushed a few wayward brown curls out of his face and joggled him with a hip. “He’s got a few.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Only if you plan on trying to make a break for it.”

“Have you noticed that I’m naked? And you’re not? How do you always do that, anyway?”

“Rhetorical, pumpkin?”

“Okay, but it does make escape problematic.”

“Or maybe I just like watching you run around naked.”

Chuck rolled his eyes and ran a hand down Casey’s ribcage. “Don’t get used to it, Mr. Kidnapper. You’ll eventually have to give me pants and a shirt at least if we’re ever going to leave this place.”

“Doesn’t sound likely.” Casey bowed his head to kiss him, fitting his chest against his. He loved all there was about the kid’s body. It had the tight lines of someone who spent a lifetime running, and he figured that was about right. You don’t get that way without perpetual movement, or running on the inside as well. But finally, maybe, he could get them to stop bolting, to melt in the sand, to grow roots deep in the earth here while dreaming of a machine that could take them to the sky.

This was why they’re here. He could get used to being wrapped into him.

“You’re never gonna want to escape when I’m done with you, kid.” Casey took hold of one wrist and held on. “You’re just gonna have to give in to my demands.”

“Just roll over and take it? Hm.” The visual perusal Chuck gave him had Casey at first squinting at him and then shaking his head slowly. Those dark eyes studied him like he was about to do something he’d never try otherwise, but the little bit of scotch and the orgasm had given him courage to test an impulse or two.

“Got a problem, pancake?”

Chuck didn’t break eye contact. Instead he stretched and shrugged, noncommittal, and it was amazing to Casey, that subtle change in confidence. “Well, Mr. Kidnapper, what happens if I ... just decide not to?”

“You decided that, huh?” Casey sat back a little. Everything about his body seemed to go tight, alert, the way only he could.

Chuck’s focus shifted down to Casey’s chest, his knees, and back up to his face. Deliberately, he crossed his ankles and pulled a corner of the blanket over his spent cock, smiling in a way he thought was devious and not idiotic. “Well, yeah ... what if I refuse?”

That was not goading. Chuck was just taking the bull by the horns for once.

Okay, maybe it was a little goading, but that was only because a part of him, the part he shouldn’t listen to, was more daring than the rest of him even if he didn’t understand it. Over and over he told himself he shouldn’t like the things Casey seemed to imply, or hell even let his mind wander back to some of the more ... imaginatively strenuous? activities his partner had already introduced him to back at the farm. God, if Ellie ever knew.

Chuck swallowed. He was suddenly warm again. And he told himself there was no ‘shouldn’t’ or ‘could not’ here, just the quiet lapping of water on the sand and silence and the two of them. Nothing could hurt him here when Casey was this close.

Nothing would dare.

For a long moment, Casey stared at him without blinking. At length, though, he rose up on his knees and tucked one thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. The pose should’ve made Chuck relax, but his lover was purposefully looming. And, damn, he was good at that.

“Oh, pancake. You have no idea,” Casey said in that gravelly voice. Without even touching him, it could get Chuck hard again in nothing flat. “I have things in my bag that could get this long line of muscle twitching ... begging for more.” He traced a finger from the kid’s groin, up his chest, fingers sliding to a stop at his lips. “Those sweet, raw sounds will be pouring out of your pretty mouth like warm maple syrup, kid.”

“You seem fairly confident for someone who has to snatch away innocent men to get them to come home with you.” Oh, my God, he really couldn’t stop himself.

“Innocent, huh?”

“So you admit I was snatched?”

Casey only lifted a shoulder and kept rubbing his finger back and forth on Chuck’s bottom lip, contemplating ... something.

“Okay, then, what’s in that bag?” Why on earth did he ask that?! He really didn’t want to know. Did he?

“I like to think of it as things that teach manners.” Casey’s glittering eyes roamed down his body before returning to Chuck’s face. “You have manners, puppy?”

“Um, I don’t know, we left in a pretty big rush.” Being that he had already gone this far into a combination of boldness and stupidity, Chuck waggled his brows at him and then stuck out his tongue to prove it. “Maybe in all the hullalboo, I might’ve, ah, left them at Devon’s?”

Casey chuckled at the thought. The deep rumble put another flutter in Chuck’s stomach. “Oh, brown eyes ....” he said and knee-walked up to his side, his gaze clinging to him. “It might be time to further your education.”

“I already know how to play checkers.”

“Not the way I can do it.” All Casey did was stroke his flushed cheek before he slid his hand around the nape of his neck, fingers digging in, helping to loosen him up even more than he had with his mouth. “But I’m pretty damn sure it won’t be checkers.”

“Oh?” Chuck lifted a brow as he pretended to think about it, but couldn’t help but sink into the touch. “Poker?”

“Poking is part of it, kid, but not all of it.” Casey smiled and lowered his head to look directly into Chuck’s eyes. “In the bag? I’ve got all kinds of ways to have fun with you.”

The kid couldn’t help but push back a little when something that intimidating crowded him. Casey could still do that when he wanted to, that bastard. “You ... do?”

Casey moved in until their lips pressed together, his tongue sliding over Chuck’s, tasting him, before he pulled just a scant inch away. “I have furs for my hands. I could stroke you all over with them. Would you like that?”

“I’ve never ... thought about it.”

“You should.” Casey stayed over him, adding his heat to Chuck’s, settling right on in. “I have leather, too. Ever get stroked with that?”

Chuck’s eyes bulged. “My experience ... has been limited, I guess?”

“See, we gotta fix that, pumpkin.” That big hand rode down his ribcage, tracing each bump slowly. Chuck hitched. “Something else I know you would like? I could tie you with a cloth and smack your sweet backside with my razor strop.”

Oh, God. Casey was much more imaginative than the kid remembered. To his dismay – maybe horror - it was his own dick beginning to stir and take notice.

“I seem to remember a time when you tried that,” Chuck said, glancing off to the side, certain that he was getting red-faced already.

“More than tried, muffin.” Dragging his hand down to let his thumb graze the tip of Chuck’s cock, Casey stroked him a few times over the blanket, reminding the kid he was still stark naked underneath that little corner while Casey hadn’t lost a single article of clothing. “The leather harness ... back in the barn. Your sweet little ass was pink when I was done with you. You liked it though.”

“That’s not true,” Chuck muttered, still looking out over the water. When Casey gave a little chortle at that, he had to add under his breath, “Fine, but not entirely.”

“Yeah. Thinking about all of it aren’t you?” Casey brought his hand under the blanket now to scrape down his length with a thumbnail, watching Chuck, speculatively. “Like it when I do this?”

The sound that came out of Chuck wasn’t even a little bit sensible or quiet.

“No razor strap tonight,” Casey said, bending in, lips whispering along the side of his neck. “Not until that leg is healed ... and then only if you ask for it really nicely.”

“Ask?” Chuck sputtered. “I would never ....” But that ache was waking up again, something close to a burn. “And can we forget I asked about the bag?”

“Heh.” Casey’s hand slid under him to his backside and squeezed hard enough for him to feel it deep. “I have a man-shaped fake prick I could show you sometime.”

“Wh - why in the hell would I need a fake one?! I have a real one, don’t I?”

Casey just stared for the longest time before a laugh blurted out of him. “Bartowski, are you paying attention?” One finger pushed against him, right between his ass cheeks, making him rise up, muscles scrunched. “Has nothing to do with already having one. Just makes you feel good.”

Chuck gave him one more confused look, but the finger near his asshole cleared that right up. His mouth fell open. “What?”

“I can’t be in you and put my mouth on you at the same time, can I?”

“In ..?” He felt his eyes were going to pop out of his skull.

Casey chuckled again. “Look at your face, brown eyes. Like a babe in the woods. But you’d like it.” He rubbed as much of his ass as he could get, making Chuck arch up slow and sweet against him. “Without even thinking anymore, you’d bore down and beg for it, wouldn’t you? Yeah? I’ll find that tight little spot for you, hit it again and again until you forget everything but my name.”

The redness was not going away thanks to Casey, so Chuck just covered his eyes and let his cheeks simmer to the sound of Casey’s dirty little chuckle. “You win. Stop. And for the record, I can’t promise you’ll ever get me drunk enough ... to try ... well, that.”

“So stock the house with booze the next time we’re in town.”

“You’re incorrigible. Sheesh.”

“And you like my ideas. Someday, kid, you’ll have your own ideas.” Casey turned him slightly on his side to get one hand covering a buttock, tapping just hard enough to sting a tiny bit.

“Ow ... and I ... don’t get ideas.” Did he? Would he? He was so far outside his home waters it wasn’t even funny. Chuck reached to the side and took Casey’s hand before it got him into bigger trouble. “I wasn’t raised that way.”

“You’ll forget how you were raised, I’m sure, sometime tonight.”

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve more talking.” Casey’s hand slid down over his stomach until he was thwarted by the corner of the blanket. Surprisingly, he didn’t throw it off or go under again, just rubbed him as low as he could get, right at the edge of his pubic hair.

Chuck settled back on the blanket, letting his shoulders sink into the sand while trying to clear his head of ... all of Casey’s lessons that he was apparently going to be schooled in very soon. The stars were miraculous tonight, the foggy path of the Milky Way end to end overhead. “You know, I never got into trouble until I found you.”

“Look at you, sweet cheeks.” Casey rubbed Chuck’s thighs, moved up to his chest, warm touches soothing him. “You’ve been trouble since the day I rode down Devil’s Canyon to that desolate farm house next to the creek.”

Chuck tried to look offended, but anything other than curiously willing was getting harder to reach. “Me?”

Casey’s grin made him tingle in places he’d forgotten he had. When he leaned in to kiss him with all the fire he knew the man possessed, it curled his toes. “Hell, yes, you. Don’t give me those guiltless eyes.”

“Okay but I told you – um, I have my own demand right now,” Chuck said, and he reached out to take the placket of Casey’s shirt. “We’re not doing anything until you lose some of your clothing.”

“Some?”

“Honestly, all.”

“Lucky for you, hostage, I happen to agree.” Casey, still on his knees, sat back on his heels, apparently waiting.

Chuck had a split-second to wonder why he wasn’t getting started. His brow furrowed. “You want me to tell you?”

“That’s right.” Casey just watched Chuck as the kid moved the satchel under his head to prop up a bit. When he was comfortable, Casey’s fingers dragged a line of pure fire down his hip, his belly, stopping at the edge of the blanket covering his cock. “Just told you what I’m gonna do to that fine little ass of yours when you ask for it.”

“Not going to ask,” Chuck mumbled lamely.

Casey grunted, skeptical. “So now it’s your turn, brown eyes. Tit for tat. You gonna say it, or keep me guessing?”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Five Where the Road Ends-x-


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

“I have my own demand right now,” Chuck said, and he reached out to take the placket of Casey’s shirt. “We’re not doing anything until you lose some of your clothing.”

“Some?”

“Honestly, all.”

“Lucky for you, hostage, I happen to agree.” Casey, still on his knees, sat back on his heels, apparently waiting.

Chuck had a split-second to wonder why he wasn’t getting started. His brow furrowed. “You want me to tell you?”

“That’s right.” Casey just watched Chuck as the kid moved the satchel under his head to prop up a bit. When he was comfortable, Casey’s fingers dragged a line of pure fire down his hip, his belly, stopping at the edge of the blanket covering his cock. “Just told you what I’m gonna do to that fine little ass of yours when you ask for it.”

“Not going to ask,” Chuck mumbled lamely.

Casey grunted, skeptical. “So now it’s your turn, brown eyes. Tit for tat. You gonna say it, or keep me guessing?”

This he could handle. “You can start with the shirt.” Chuck slipped one hand under his head and smiled up at him. “Take it off.”

“Sassy little bastard, aren’t you?” Casey grumbled, but he obliged by unfastening those last buttons and slipping it off his shoulders. When it came free, he tossed it to the ground and put his hands on his hips. “No secrets here, cupcake.”

“Whoa – I, uh –” Chuck swallowed and coughed at the same time, not that he meant to. The only secret was how the heck his boyfriend could be so nonchalant about his appearance. The kid had only caught a glimpse of Casey without his shirt the morning he came out of his blackout, and that was with Ellie hovering over them like an angry bumblebee. Not exactly a natural aphrodisiac. Before then, it had been months, and he almost forgot how intimidating all of that hard muscle tightly packed in pale skin and a six-foot-four frame could be.

He was not gaping ... nor staring for that matter. Not at Casey’s chest, wide and lightly furred with reddish brown hair and pecs well-muscled from the kind of hard work Chuck didn’t even want to think about. Yep, the man still had arms the size of most men’s legs, Chuck saw, and they gave the kid every reason to reach out and drag a hand up, up to a bicep and give it a squeeze. Hard as rock.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Chuck said, grinning and trying not to blink. “I was kind of worried you’d let yourself go to pot.”

“What the hell are you staring at?”

“Um.” Okay. Right. Casey hated being the center of attention, which made it worse that Chuck’s eyes had been caught checking out the way his muscles moved from his neck all the way down to his lower ribcage, making the kid speculate on the sculpted ass he also guessed would be in tiptop shape. The visual perusal would’ve gone on further, but the thought of buttock muscles had Chuck clearing his throat. When he got his bearings – look away from all the flesh, dummy - Chuck glanced up from Casey’s chest and lifted a brow. “Do you even look at yourself in the mirror?”

“Hell, no. Only women do that.”

“That’s not true. I do that.”

Casey smirked and put his hands on his knees to lean over him. “Touch yourself when you do it?”

“Wh-what?”

“When you look in the mirror, Bartowski,” Casey clarified with a ‘gotta explain this shit?’ eye roll, as if that was enough. “Grab yourself and watch?”

“Why in the world would you ask me that?”

Casey shrugged, wearing that little leer of his. “’Cause I’d like to see it.”

Chuck kept his brows down, squinting at him to keep from blushing again. Yeah, like that was going to work. “Four months of celibacy have done wonders for your imagination, I see.”

“Four months and twenty-two days, pancake.” Casey knee-walked closer, his hard, denim-clad bulge snugged tight against Chuck’s hip. “Anything else you wanted?”

Chuck forced himself to maintain eye contact, no matter how badly his eyes almost tripped over the distraction at his side. Now that Casey was directly over him, Chuck had to give in to the urge to just touch, at least, get his hands on as much of that chest as he could. So easing his hands over him, he massaged, his fingers barely able to dig in, the flesh was so tight there.

“Hm, and I thought the view on the porch was something to see,” Chuck told him, gripping, exploring. He wanted to rub his face against him. Particularly when his boyfriend was aroused as Casey’s cock was at this point, straining against the jeans, making Chuck swallow excess saliva pooled in his mouth. It was an addiction, that man’s skin. It really was.

Casey, who had had enough of being squeezed and fondled like a prize bull, took hold of Chuck’s wrist and pulled it away. “Not your giant toy, kid.”

“Hey, but it’s fair when you’re always stripping me down?”

Casey snorted at that. Bending over him, his mouth closed over Chuck’s, biting his lower lip almost hard enough to sting. “That’s because you’re beautiful bare.” He kissed down Chuck’s throat, his chest, the little nipples so hard the kid lifted his chest and moaned. “Am I going to have to remind you who’s boss here?”

“N-no ...no, I think I’ve got it. But thanks.”

“Good.” Casey moved over to bite his shoulder, the big cock pressing up against him. The man just surrounded him, overwhelmed him. The kid would have reached down, stroked through the pants, but he couldn’t think with Casey kissing and teasing his bare skin again. Chuck could only stretch his body, feeling the sand under the blanket conform to every dip and curve while Casey’s body pressed in to him.

There was an element of pleasurable punishment here Chuck had to endure, but deeming that enough for now, Casey pulled back and sat up, his fingers trailing along the shoulder where he had just laid a love bite. “I think you’re ready now. Buttons, muffin. Undo the buttons.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever ask.”

“Did that sound like I was asking?” Casey said, his voice no more than a growl.

“Well, now that you mention it, you’re not really the asking type,” Chuck had to concede. “Not that I’m, um, complaining.” Now get over here with that so I can get my hands all over you.

“You say something else?” Casey asked.

Chuck stiffened at first, wondering if he had made that mistake. “N-no.”

“Because you look like you’re -”

“You. Shut up and let me do this.” While something low in his belly heated, Chuck’s hands moved of their own will, tugged on the buttons over Casey’s fly. For this, the kid could be deft and quick, and he had the first few undone while Casey was still inching forward on his knees.

“Easy there, cupcake ....”

“I do know what I’m doing ... wow – that’s a stubborn one there at the bottom ... almost, okay.” Chuck took hold of the waistband on either side of the unbuttoned opening and pushed it down, just enough in front to release Casey’s cock.

“Oh ... hello,” Chuck stammered. God, did I just say that?! Now, he was convinced he was an idiot. But holy God. It bobbed in a perfect curve, brushed against Chuck’s chest as it rose high, bumping his throat, the pulsing weight of it too much temptation. Chuck only hesitated for a second before he closed his hand on the heated steel, giving one tentative squeeze then stroking as Casey pumped into his palm. The hard and thick shaft responded, velvety skin running along his fingers. “I guess you really do hate waiting,” he tried to joke. The kid breathed in deeply, then shallowly through his nose, just remembering his lover and all the time he thought he’d never do this again.

“Yeah ...you had no idea the wicked things you were doing to me, did you kid? So wicked ....” Casey let his head fall back on his shoulders at that touch and then caught the hand that was threatening to make him spew any moment if he kept working him like that. “But I didn’t wait for months for a hand job, brown eyes.”

Chuck’s eyes darted to where his hand was gradually stroking. Damn it if the kid didn’t lick his lips. “Oh.”

“Yeah, you’re catching on. Mm. I have a wicked need as well.” Casey’s hands landed in the sand on either side above Chuck’s head. Chuck watched, going bug-eyed as his boyfriend threw a thigh over his shoulders and planted himself rather comfortably straddling the kid’s upper chest. “I think you’re gonna need to use your mouth.”

“My mouth. Just like that?” The kid couldn’t help but stare at what was bobbing directly in front of his ... lips. Those hands closed on his shoulders, and Chuck felt his cheeks heat right up again. “I’ve never ... quite done it like this before. Being on my back ....” Oh, God, he’s babbling. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Trick question, Bartowski?”

“Well.” Chuck’s eyes flicked down. “I - I’m still new at this.

“Then there’s never a better time to try.” Casey grinned down at him, slow and easy. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, kid.”

“Um –“

“Listen.” Casey angled his face closer and those big hands moved, stroking up and down his arms, Casey’s mouth so close that Chuck could smell the whisky-scorched warmth again. “I can’t let you get on your knees tonight – God, knows I don’t want you bleeding on me – but you are going to get your mouth on me.” Pressing him into the blanket, he muttered against Chuck’s ear. “Been thinking about it for so long ... I’d like it so much.”

So who was being insane now? How could Chuck say no to that?

“Then I want to do it – um, even if it’s a little awkward like this?’

A sound like a bass drum met his ears, and Chuck looked up from where his eyes were obviously focused to see Casey biting down another laugh. “Trust me, muffin, there’s nothing awkward about it.”

“I’m not going to ask how you know that,” Chuck answered, trying not to sound perturbed. All this time he thought he was – okay, getting somewhat experienced – but the more Casey spoke, the more Chuck knew he was still a student when it came to sexual prowess.

“I hope not, because you don’t need to know.” Casey resettled, putting hardly any weight on Chuck’s upper chest, but sliding forward a little until Chuck’s throat was centered between massive thighs. And oh, hell. Heavy balls swung, so close, nudging his chin. “You just need to think about this .... Forget everything else.”

Chuck felt his own balls draw up tight as a bowstring. “Oh, crap.”

Casey squinted at him, less amused than a minute ago. “You gonna just lay there and look at it? Doesn’t bite. Or did you forget what to do?”

“Hah,” Chuck mumbled, rolling his eyes. “You should be careful, Mr. Kidnapper, or I will bite.” But with that in his face, it was too much temptation. Chuck waited only another second or two before he slightly parted his lips, closed his hands on Casey’s hips and hung on. His own muscles rippled and shuddered as his cheek brushed the tender inside of his boyfriend’s upper thigh.

So soft. It tickled. Chuck closed his eyes and swept to the center, his lips and tongue sliding over those wiry curls, the wrinkled skin that seemed to move against his lips. He did his best, licking and nuzzling, tongue flat and pressing against the heavy sacs first. He’d like that, wouldn’t he? It had to feel good, right?

“Christ ....” Casey moaned, the sound content and heated. His boyfriend moved his hips and prick in, then away, just pushing and pressing. “Yeah, get your tongue on there ....”

It took this long for Chuck to figure out that in this position, with his boyfriend sitting over him like this, Casey had all the control. Something told him that was more than accidental design, but not that the kid cared. The air was flavored with Casey’s need, with the musk and salt of his heat, and Chuck felt the effect through his bones.

When the kid opened his eyes, he could see Casey watching him, momentarily biting down on the tip of his tongue. “That’s it, puppy ... yeah, you’re getting it now.” Urging him on, Casey stroked his hair, gentle and tender for such powerful hands. “Fuck ... you feel so good ....”

Those soft words made Chuck ache inside, made him want to please Casey and hear them again and again. He could only reach the underside, but he licked up along Casey’s shaft, then molded his lips around it at least for a sucking kiss.

“Goddamn, kid ....” Casey jumped, his prick twitching. “Lemme help you.”

“Help? Should I be – ah, worried?” Chuck automatically tensed. “Oh, hey.”

While Chuck was staring past that long cock to look up at him in confusion, Casey leaned over, latched onto his satchel, and tried to wedge it a little further under the kid’s shoulders. “Lift.”

Glancing to the side, Chuck got the gist and lifted his shoulders. Immediately, he felt Casey slide the leather bag under them, a move that repositioned him more levelly with ... well, the task at hand. “There. Better,” Casey said in that gravelly tone. “That’s it ... comfortable, pancake?”

“Yes ... that’s um, wow ... okay, then,” Chuck stammered, almost going cross eyed when he tried to focus on the broad crown three inches from his nose. It was actually more comfortable, though, since being flat on his back really was as awkward as he thought. “Do you want me to, ah –”

“Jesus, kid, don’t overcomplicate it, eh?” With one hand, Casey threaded fingers through his hair, massaging the kid’s scalp. That wasn’t the hand that had him slightly on edge. It was the other one, the one that took hold of Casey’s own cock at the thick base and steered it closer, right up to the kid’s lips. “Open.”

Chuck should really be humiliated that he spontaneously parted his lips and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, good boy,” Casey said, and Chuck could hear that damn smile. “Just a minute, and you’ll get it.”

“Get – ow!” Something smacked his cheek, not too hard, but enough to make Chuck’s eyes spring wide. He goggled up at him in utter bewilderment. “What – what are you doing?”

“Yeah, good thinking. It’s better if you have your eyes open, looking up at me right now.”

Before Chuck stutter out what the hell and why, Casey steered the tip of his shaft over and tapped him on the cheek with the broad crown of his cock ... a few times.

“Yeah, pancake ... that’s it,” and to Chuck’s amazement he moved over to the other cheek and slapped his cock there a couple of rounds, “you keep giving me those wide brown eyes like that and I’ll spend in that pretty mouth, right here and now.”

“Why – I mean, not that I’m complaining but I thought you wanted me to ..?”

“Bother you when I do this, kid?” Casey asked, accentuating this by giving another light smack or so on his left cheek.

Chuck furrowed his brow. This was completely new. “No.” he answered honestly.

“Good, then stick out your tongue.”

Maybe it was the tone, or just the short, brusque command itself. Whatever it was, the kid didn’t even know he wanted to stick out his tongue until he found his cock responding to nothing more than Casey’s command, and by the time Chuck blinked up at him, his mouth did exactly as Casey ordered. My God, without even thinking his tongue slid out and he opened wider for him.

“Yeah, that’s it, muffin ... just like that ....” When Chuck thought that would be it, he felt Casey spank the tip of his cock against his tongue. “Want it?”

Chuck’s eyes blew even wider, but for an unfathomable reason, he left his tongue right there for Casey to lightly tap up and down. Did he just do that? Seriously? What -

“Mmph ... fuck, kid ...right there ... like that hot little tongue. Maybe someday I’ll let you do that to me. Gonna get me wet in a minute, aren’t you?”

Oh, God. Now that was something he had forgotten – not the wet part, hey, he wasn’t an idiot – but Casey could say things that Chuck couldn’t even think, things that made his body react without him telling it what to do. Just the words had Chuck closing his eyes and breathing in through his nostrils, hard and fervent as Casey rumbled dirty, suggestive thoughts and ran the head of his cock over his tongue, his lips, so hot and hard, a little slippery –

Chuck whimpered in his throat. His skin felt hotter than the fire they had left hissing and crackling inside. The man smelled good, rich and fine, salty in his mouth. “Ca-sey ....”

“Christ. Do that again. Leave it just like that.” Casey kept gripping himself at the root and spanked the heavy crown a little harder on his tongue. “You did learn at least one thing tonight, didn’t you? How to open your mouth without talking? Like sticking out your tongue for me, hm?”

“Mmnh?”

“Never mind. Bet you need a little more frosting. Here.” Casey reached down, took Chuck’s hand, and dipped a finger in the silver pot. He returned it to him with a heavy glob of white frosting on the end. “Now get a feel for it again. You can start anywhere ... though you may want to start with the end closest to your nose. Looks like it could use a little dab there, eh?”

“Subtle, John.” But first eyeing his target, he dutifully brought his finger up and slowly, very slowly, spread the frosting over the tip, then around the crown. “Did I miss anything?” Chuck asked, proving Casey didn’t have the patent on smart ass remarks.

Casey’s eyes got a little of that glazed look. He groaned in his chest, the ridges of his muscles along his shoulders popping out. “It’s sweet, cupcake ... bet you wanna taste now, don’t you ..?”

Chuck surprisingly and finally felt in control. He pushed himself up with his shoulders and leaned in, slowly put his mouth on him, just the tip, getting that first musky and sweet taste Casey promised. When he heard Casey suck in an appreciative breath, he licked again, tongue stroking against the delicate, soft skin, molding to the curved surface. Finding the wet, salty slit, he pushed his tongue against it, rolling, the pungent taste mixing in with sugar, and it was even sweeter.

“Oh ... fuck ... now you got it, kid. Hungry, aren’t you? Lemme see you suck it off.”

Chuck glanced up into those keen eyes and complied, slurping lazily around the crown. Well, Casey had vowed there would be dessert, just not a recipe he could ever let Ellie know he had tried.

Why the hell did his brain make him think of his sister now?

Right then, Casey squirmed, making the most amazing sounds. Hands opening and closing on Chuck’s shoulders, the larger man pulled him farther down on the heavy cock, begging him with actions more than words for more, much more.

Chuck did his best, trying to relax all the way back to his throat, to give Casey more, to take more. The smooth cream of the frosting helped his lips glide all the way down until he absolutely couldn’t take the rest without bumping his soft palate. He let Casey know by pulling back, even though Casey tried to push his hips in and follow the kid’s mouth.

“Buttercream. You taste ... well, really ....” Do not say sweet. John Casey has killed someone for less than that. Instead, Chuck finished by giving him a few firm strokes. This way, he was able to get all the way to the base, somewhere his mouth couldn’t quite reach. “I think you missed a spot, big guy.”

“Shit.” Casey automatically thrust into his hand. “Good, kid, that’s it ... now get your mouth back on there again ....”

“Pushy,” Chuck mumbled without rancor, and when their eyes meet, he deliberately stretched his neck back only to let the long shaft just touch his lips so that he could slowly tease Casey, gradually looping his tongue around Casey’s crown. “Like this?” he asked.

Casey thrust his hips forward, slowly beginning the motions of fucking his mouth if the kid had lined him up. “Nice, but nothing like that. Take more ... again.”

Chuck’s cheek slid along his shaft, the hint of stubble rasping against him. “Or like this?”

“Motherfucker ....” Casey murmured, closing his eyes. “Oh, you little shit for that ....”

Chuck noticed Casey didn’t pull away, however. Sweeping his lips back to the crown, he gave in to what Casey demanded – hell, it was the thing he wanted just as badly. The kid parted his lips, went straight down on him, and he swirled his tongue a couple of times over the rounded, hard surface. Casey had done this to him, and God, he liked it, so it only figured that Casey wanted it done the same way.

“Bartowski,” Casey groaned as he rocked. “Making me want you so much.”

There. It had to be good. Anything that made Casey show his need out in the open like that. Not that Chuck couldn’t tell by the rhythm and nudging forward with his hips. Trying to fuck my mouth, Chuck thought helplessly, and he couldn’t help but moan around him. The moan sent a vibration, and Chuck felt Casey’s cock swell a little in his mouth, the slight change in force made him groan again and go down a little further.

Oh ... God. He let his lips drag along the veined, pliant yet impossibly hardness until his throat tightened. It felt so good under his teeth, the last traces of sugar and male richness on his tongue making him get a little braver.

“Yeah ... again, now you got it, kid. Mmnh, suck it a little,” Casey suggested. A forceful hand landed on the back of his head, sliding through his hair to his nape. “Lemme help you a little ... wanna get all of it, don’t you?”

Chuck was worried that he actually might not be able to do what Casey was suggesting, but Casey seemed to anticipate the trepidation - and knew exactly what to do about it. The hand in the back of his head tightened, twisting his fingers into dark waves and taking advantage of curls Chuck had let grow out too long. Vaguely, he wondered if Casey would even want him to have short hair if he knew he could use it in such creative ways.

“Won’t tell you to relax ... but you should try ... I’ll show you kid.” With his other hand, Casey took hold of the base of his own cock and tapped the kid’s lips. As soon as Chuck opened his mouth, his boyfriend let several inches of hard cock pass through, and Casey began steering him with the hand in his hair. “Yeah, good boy ... that’s it, right there,” Casey said, thrusting into his mouth just as he pushed Chuck’s head forward. “Like that, huh? Now suck a little, too.”

Chuck hunched, doing the opposite Casey had asked him to do. His throat at first clamped shut, but after a few thrusts, the kid realized he had nothing to be concerned about. Of course, Casey seemed to know how far he could go, gauging him perfectly like he knew Chuck’s body better than the kid knew his own.

So Chuck let himself go and relax, besides giving suction, something Casey seemed to want very badly. Casey’s skin felt hot, tasted bitter and addictive at the same time. Outright neglected, for some reason his own cock was throbbing, just by the act of giving head with a strong hand steering him up and down. Noises, beautiful hungry noises in his ear, helped to tighten his body, balls drawn up, wanting him to cup them, squeeze them, to touch his cock.

“Like me fucking your pretty little mouth, huh? Makes you want things, I bet.”

Fortunately, Chuck didn’t have to answer that, not that he thought he could even without his mouth occupied. Instead, he met his eyes and went down, trying to concentrate.

“Yeah, Goddamn ... that’s a good puppy.”

Wow. Chuck was going to have to have a long talk with a part of his anatomy that liked that kind of thing. It should not be that hot to hear Casey tell him he’s an obedient little canine.

Crap. There was no denying it. It did make his need rise up higher. Chuck swallowed him down with more purpose, and somehow figured out or remembered that he could cover the rest of the distance with his hand.

“I like that, kid ... gonna hang on ..?” Apparently, that move with the hand deserved a reward, because Casey stroked his hair, murmuring soft words, the kind that made Chuck duck his head in self-consciousness under any other circumstances. “That’s it,” Casey said. “Show me how much you love it ... how much you love to suck me ....”

He was pretty sure that’s exactly what he was doing, but he put all of his frustrated lust, and all of the want and need into it, so much that it almost hurt. He had no idea how such longing and desire fit so perfectly with the obscene noises and encouragement; he only knew his ears rung with the wet sounds of sucking his boyfriend’s cock and the rippling of water rolling up on the shore.

“Need more, kid. Need ... unh.” Casey’s words trailed right off. Chuck saw that as a tiny victory, that he had given him enough, more than enough, to debauch the unshakable man looming over him. Happy with that, he pulled back to suck experimentally at the crown, let Casey see his tongue lapping and then flashed his eyes open to give him a brown-eyed calf stare.

If he remembered, that was the kind of thing that did it for Casey. “You ... like watching me?” Chuck worked up the courage to ask.

“Fuck, s’good, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop ....”

The words of advice went straight to his brain – and his own cock, apparently. Chuck lifted his hips, trying to reach Casey’s back, to find something or anything to scrape his dick along and get some friction. But Casey was on his knees right up to the kid’s face, which made it impossible, so Chuck tried to worm his hand down under Casey’s calf to give himself a little tug.

“Not happening, kid. You need something to touch? Right here ....” Casey snatched his wrist and steered his fingers back under his cock, straight to Casey’s heavy balls. “You wanna roll them around a little, don’t you ... maybe suck ‘em ....”

Oh, God. He didn’t think so, but by the time Casey had told him that, somehow, that’s precisely what he wanted. Dang. Badly, too. Chuck moaned around Casey’s cock and took them lightly in his palm. The touch made Casey surge into his mouth and Chuck watched as his head fell back. “Christ, brown eyes ... you wanna kill me ....”

No, but he did want to hear him moan out a few more of those wanton, filthy sounds. He needed to know that it was good, right? So he slid his tongue over the wet tip of his slit while his fingers cradled Casey’s aching balls.

“Mmph!” Shoot. One thing Chuck learned the hard way was that rolling his boyfriend’s balls in their sack made Casey arch up, push deeper as his hand, still twisted in curls, brought the kid’s face closer. Chuck gasped around his cock, but somehow managed not to pull away from him or worse, break into a coughing fit.

“Getting so good at taking it, aren’t you?” Casey tilted his head down to really stare. Those eyes searched his, the mixture of hunger and desire a pure compulsion. “That’s a boy....”

Chuck had to wriggle his head in order to disengage. “I’m not a boy.”

Casey took hold of his cock and brushed it over Chuck’s mouth, taunting, back and forth. “No, you’re not. But you’re my boy.”

“I’m not certain I understand the distinction,” Chuck said, and taking Casey’s hand away and replacing it with his own, he wrapped it around the girth. A little tightly, if only to make a point. “And right now, I’m fairly certain you’re mine.”

Casey growled and thrust at the same time, not arguing. The thrust earned him another suck, harder, until Chuck heard him swear softly under his breath and make something he had never heard from Casey, a little pleading noise.

Too much? His hands and tongue released some of the pressure, stroking his shaft, so careful, so gentle. He could feel Casey relax, lean back some on his knees, though he wouldn’t dare sit on the kid all the way. Maybe slower? Heck, this was the first time in a long time, Chuck decided, and something to savor. Not to be rushed. And damned if he didn’t slow the pace, take his time with longer, unhurried sucks and kisses along his erection.

“Nn – Jesus ....” All Casey could do was watch, but Chuck swore he felt his thighs shaking. The fingers in his hair tightened almost to the point of pain, but he seemed to concede to Chuck’s deliberately languid exploration and tormenting with the entire length of his tongue, just his lips.

“Oh ... you are still a cock tease like I’ve never known, pancake ....”

It didn’t sound like a complaint, so Chuck kept going, just a slower movement, slower sucking, but taking him over and over. Oh, damn, it should not be this good, especially not when Casey’s throat reverberated like a thundercloud miles away. Hearing that, Chuck slipped his hand down, fingers moving lower to a place he hadn’t really ever visited before, stroking the skin behind his sacs, back a little further, nails just scraping –

“Trying to undo me, aren’t you, kid?” Casey’s voice was thick, rough. “You’re too good at your job, brown eyes, but I’m not ready yet.”

Chuck looked up, baffled, as Casey got up on his knees, taking all of his playthings just out of reach. “What -? But I thought ... isn’t that what you ..?”

Casey slapped the crown lightly against Chuck’s lips to shut him up.

This made Chuck’s brows fly up. “Hey, watch it with that.”

“Then pay attention.”

“You’re very confusing. Oh, and an asshole for that.”

“And you’re very, very good ....” Casey chuckled and scooted back, dipped his head, kissing the frown off his face. The taste of himself on Chuck’s tongue earned a growl straight into his mouth. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing this together.” He glanced down. “You’ve been naughty – need to teach you what happens when you bait me.”

“I was baiting you?” Chuck smiled, because of course he was.

“Yeah, touching me – like to have those balls in your mouth again? Wouldn’t you?”

Chuck closed his mouth, just in case his boyfriend got ideas. Such as right now, and he wasn’t quite sure he could hold on that long. Could someone come from only sucking another man, maybe with a forceful hand in his hair and filthy encouragement ringing in his ears? Well, Chuck didn’t want to find out.

“Now you seal your lips, eh?”

“Ye – I mean mm-hmm.”

“Heh.” When the kid thought his rather unpredictable lover would take a bottomless kiss, Casey only dropped a touch, like a raindrop, on his lips. But that alone made Chuck want to open up under him - which Casey felt and chuckled into his mouth.

The big jerk. How could one man have this much power over him, just with a kiss or coaxing, compensating for his jitters with a caress of his hand?

“If you like that part of the anatomy so much, I think I have something else in my bag for you.”

“Um, for clarity, is there anything you don’t keep in there?” Chuck asked. But curiosity took him this far. It made him lift his shoulders to give Casey access to the satchel Chuck was using for a pillow.

“Easy, pancake, you’ll see.”

As Casey reached over, Chuck watched him warily. “Okay, but one thing: depending upon what you’re getting ready to pull out of your bag of tricks, sweetie –”

“- that’s five ass swats. Keep going.”

Chuck pointed a frown at him. “There are some lines I might not be willing to cross yet, okay?” Sheesh. He was only just getting accustomed to another man’s body besides his own.

At least he liked to tell himself that.

“Mm. Yeah, here we go. I think you’ll like it. We’ll try it, kid ... other things as well, but I have the feeling you like to take things slow, eh?”

“Well, yes – try what now?”

“I’d love to bind you here ....” That big hand came around and down to cup his prick and balls. His other hand dug around in the bag. A tangle of straps, skinny and smooth, sat in Casey’s fist when he repositioned himself over Chuck’s hips.

Chuck went slack-jawed first at it – some kind of wacky contraption invented by a medieval jailer, he thought - and pinned his focus on his somewhat insane boyfriend. “Why on earth would you do that?!” He would not squeak like a startled chicken. He would not. And when Casey circled him with tight fingers right then he did not shiver and push into Casey’s hand. No way.

Casey grinned at the reaction and scooted down his body a bit more. “Because you can’t come, kid, until you get the say-so.” He drew a hand down Chuck’s ribcage, making the kid wonder at the feelings swirling in his stomach. “You gotta trust me, Bartowski. It makes it all so much more fun.” The look in Casey’s eyes gave him shivers. “You wanna feel fireworks, don’t you?”

“Casey ....” Chuck just shook his head dumbly. He couldn’t imagine needing more.

“Yeah, we’re gonna try it now, I think.”

The last two words were tacked on hesitantly, and Chuck realized they were put there to open up to any protest.

Protest? Should he? “Will it ... ah, hurt?”

Casey snorted softly and ran a hand low on Chuck’s belly. “Only if you pull back, pancake –”

“What?”

“Listen,” Casey said, rolling his eyes, “have I ever done anything that you didn’t ask for again?”

Chuck wrinkled his nose. “Well, there was the one time ....”

“Yeah, and your pink ass mighta not loved it, but your cock did,” Casey told him, giving a little tap to his hip since his ass was safely wedged into the blanket. He shifted and tilted his head, becoming more serious. “Trust me, tiger?”

Chuck bit down on his tongue briefly and then nodded. “Of course.”

Casey flashed the sly smile again, brought the leather out of his fist and rose over him, damned fine, all those muscles rippling. He put one hand on the sand over Chuck’s head and kissed him thoroughly while his other hand cupped the kid’s balls, rolling them between his fingers like dice in a game of Hazard.

“Oh ... God ....” Chuck whispered into his mouth. No matter how bawdy the suggestion, his own hand slid down his body, his fingers cupping his shaft – which couldn’t decide whether to hide at the proposition or to throb and harden, damn it. “Are you sure it won’t?”

“You remember the night in the barn? You’ll be begging for it again,” Casey said against his lips. That husky note had crept back into Casey’s voice, the one that made his body stand up and take heed, made him want to fall in and do whatever the man told him ... no matter how much logic told him he should put up a bit of a struggle.

The question was, just like always, why did he never fight?

“Ever think about the night I wrapped leather around your cock ... and tugged it off ... the way it ... twirled and dragged over that soft skin? It held you like my hand.”

Chuck stilled his breath so he wouldn’t have to answer ‘every night’, but when he looked up into Casey’s expectant face, he felt himself nod. “Yes ... it might’ve crossed my mind. You know, obscurely, I guess.”

“Obscurely?” Casey grunted without looking up from his handiwork. In front of Chuck’s eyes, the straps resolved themselves into some kind of harness, a small one with loops of abraded leather.

“Um, where does one even, well, acquire something like that?” he asked, knowing he was beginning to babble again.

“I bought this when I was searching for your little ass,” Casey said mildly, his lips curving. “That was my west coast swing through Carson City to San Francisco.”

“So in the cities?” Giving a fleeting glance down, Chuck’s brows slowly rose as Casey gave the apparatus a tug, leaving a nice, long length of smooth leather. “That’s where they sell ....um, whatever that is – and God, that was not an invitation to tell me.”

“Good. Rather show you.” Casey, appearing awfully comfortable on his perch as he straddled Chuck’s legs, looked up long enough to shoot a mystified expression at him. “Hell, kid, you grew up in a city. Didn’t you ever walk around? Notice the shops?”

“I, ah, wasn’t allowed to visit the seedier parts of town.”

“What makes you think it was seedy, cupcake?”

“Call me crazy, but that ... thing in your hand that you’re so carefully hitching together looks like it’s meant to - um -”

“Wrap around your little nut sacks until you whine out my name like a hungry puppy and try to hump that blanket into next week?”

Chuck gaped at both the preciseness and explicitness in one oh-so-happy package. His gaze fell to Casey’s hand, holding that whatchamacallit. He slapped a hand over his eyes and his head fell back on the satchel. “Oh my God oh my God ....”

“I like your enthusiasm, pancake,” Casey said, obliviously enjoying this night more than ten circuses, “but I didn’t expect to hear that until I wrapped it around you.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hate you right now.”

“But you’ll love this, pancake.” Pushing his leg down – Chuck wasn’t even aware he had bent his knee up in an unconscious and futile move to half cover himself – Casey slid a hand between his upper thighs, splaying his fingers very close to a sensitive part of his anatomy. “Spread a little.”

“I – spread? Are you sure you ... I mean, honestly, I. Oh.”

“I’m sure.” His boyfriend wasted no time to spread Chuck’s legs, circling his balls with one strap. “Bring those over here, eh?” In case there was any doubt what he meant, Casey grinned down at Chuck teasingly and rolled them in his fingers.

“Ah ... oh.” Chuck lifted his head and his mouth fell open even further. His balls tightened, the leather cool and silken and strange against him. “Hey ... is that ..? I - wow – like that, huh?”

“Yeah, like that.” Casey lifted his eyes to study the kid’s face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he kept tying off the strap, making Chuck’s eyes follow the leather. “Nothing to it, kid. Might wanna suck in a breath here.”

“What? Why? Oh, shi-!” Chuck obediently sucked in that whiff of air. Objectively, it was an inch wide, a few feet long, and the color of chocolate. Harmless enough, except for its delicate placement and the precise tautening he felt right then. “Is that supposed to be -?!”

“Yep,” Casey answered as if he knew how Chuck was going to finish that. Another strap went around the base of his cock, and oh ... when Casey tightened the straps and fastened them, it was just ....

“I - I ... what ....” The sensation of being constricted there immediately sent a jolt, like electricity through wires, his heart tripping as his cock jumped. Chuck reached down, dragging one hand over his own stomach, hesitating, fingers exploring, his entire body going tight. “Oh, shit ....”

“Not too tight, is it, brown eyes?” Casey asked, sounding hoarse. His boyfriend bit down on something that looked like an inquisitive smile and put his hand on Chuck’s, bringing it down over the straps with a little more strength than the kid had. He touched, too, running his rough fingers all the way around. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“I – no? I mean, no. I guess not. It doesn’t ... feel too tight.” Crap! How tight was too tight? Things didn’t really belong down there, did they? How in the world would this make him feel better than Casey already did?

“Yeah, you’re wondering, aren’t you, pancake,” Casey observed, and he leaned over him to meet his mouth in a wet, rough kiss, maybe giving away what this was doing to him. “Have I led you astray?”

“My sister would have a slightly different answer to that question than I would.”

Looping a few fingers around a strap, Casey gave the harnessy-thing a little tug. Feeling that tiny pull, Chuck choked at the new sensation of stark constriction and helplessness and oh God it was... good. “Not asking your sister, am I?”

“Well, no.”

“Maybe one of these times, I’ll leave a little length on one end. Would you wanna walk around on my leash for me ... puppy?” He flipped that end between a few fingers, but then lowered it to the blanket, letting his hand rub against the kid’s thigh. “Come for me ... when I call?”

“You wouldn’t.” Chuck crossed his arms over his bare chest, hoping that would seal his message.

“You’ll ask for it someday,” Casey replied just as surely, smirk intact. “Let me test it out.”

“T-test?” Chuck almost moved until he remembered Casey had him tethered and better move, too. “I’m usually good at tests, but this – hey.”

“Not that kind.” Casey’s hand closed tight on his prick, and that hot, strong, and playfully, exceedingly uninhibited boyfriend of his just went and wrapped warm, firm lips around the head of it, sucking good and hard.

“Oh. This is a test?! This nothing like one I’ve – ohmanohman ....” Chuck’s head snapped back onto the satchel, the heat and pleasure and wet more than he could bear. Considering how hard he was after giving Casey the same treatment, the kid curled his toes, one fist grabbing the blanket, and tensed every muscle for his release.

Except that didn’t quite happen.

His hips bucked up, pushing deeper into Casey’s lips. Casey grunted, sucking all the way down to the straps and pressing hard. Oh son of a bitch. Chuck could feel the hot exhalation, the wetness of his tongue. Every inch of his skin tingled under the perfect pressure and friction.

Casey was trying to kill him. Not that he would; their relationship had evolved way beyond that dicey phase, but he was trying to kill him in the most delicious way imaginable.

“CaseyCaseyCasey .... oh, shit ....” His world tightened to that mouth, the heat around him, and the rhythmic slide of his backside on the sheets. Casey gave and gave, fingers sliding under his balls to lift them, just releasing the pressure the tiniest bit. “God, right there ....”

Then his sacs dropped back on the harness. Why? He was so close! Sounds poured from Chuck that he never would have believed he could make - rough, desperate, like he was the most shameless man his sister thought he would become under Casey’s tutelage.

Good thing she had no idea where he was.

“Mmmhmm.” Finding the trigger, Casey cupped his balls and pressed his mouth to his crown, made soft noises to answer his. Those hands urged him on, moving right up to his hole and dipping a fingertip in.

“Oh ... wow ... that’s oh there ....” Chuck’s fingers gripped the sheets so hard they ached, his legs splaying wide, begging for more, for release. He couldn’t release, though. Even when he gave his body permission, the straps kept him from spending.

“You shouldn’t try to fight it, kid.”

“Fight? Casey, Casey ...” Chuck got up on two elbows and crab-crawled to the side of the blanket, scrambled away from that mouth, his heart pounding, his hands reaching for his prick. “I – can’t -”

“That’s kinda the point, muffin,” Casey said, rubbing a hand over his leg. When Chuck didn’t take the hint to move back where he was, Casey took hold of that leg and gently hauled him back to the center of the blanket. “Not yet.”

Chuck, sweat-soaked and ruffled, could only gawp at him. “Not – yet? But – when!?”

Casey took a second to run his thumb over one of the straps, a nail scraping his balls until the kid thought the stars overhead would explode. “When you do, it’ll be the best orgasm of your life. Promise, eh?”

“But – but I had no complaints about the other ones!”

“C’mere.” Casey rolled his eyes good-naturedly and putting a big hand on his chest, pressed until Chuck’s shoulders settled into the satchel again. “You gotta trust me. You’ll love what it does to you ....”

“I ...” Gasping for air, heart pounding, he met Casey’s eyes, searching for answers, questions , anything. “How – how do you know?”

Those bright eyes just stayed on his, steady as a rock. There was nothing to fear there. None. Instead, there was one other thing, almost hidden, that Casey had never told him. “I got you, kid. I’ve got you.”

Chuck blinked heavily, nodded, reaching out to brush Casey’s soft, swollen lips. “You make me ... crazy sometimes, you know that?”

“Trust me,” Casey said against his fingers, reaching out to skid over his belly. “I won’t lead you wrong.”

“Something ... just occurred to me. Should I be worried you bought this – this thing,” and Chuck made a vague hand motion downward, blushing crazily, “before you even found me? Who else were you going to give the honor of harnessing up like a runaway mustang, anyway?”

Casey smirked, rolling Chuck’s captive balls in his palm like he owned them while he pretended to contemplate the question. “I don’t know. Tall geeks are a dime a dozen, and now that I’m a rich man, I could’ve found a few willing to take it for a test.”

Chuck forced himself to focus upward to settle himself, but not before launching a stink eye at his teasing lover. “Casey ... I want ... it. Very badly.”

“I know. Let’s just sit a minute.”

“Sit?”

“Yeah, you heard me.” Pulling Chuck’s legs down and trapping them between those heavy thighs, Casey bent over Chuck’s torso until he was face to face. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, cradled him, letting him breathe. “There you are, puppy ... all mine, aren’t you,” Casey murmured.

Warm. Oh, wow, that man could throw off body heat. Chuck found himself curling close, resting, relaxing against Casey, tension seeping from him.

“That’s it, pancake. That’s it. See how good it feels?” Chuck closed his eyes. Yes, he could feel it now, building slower and easier, not so overwhelming.

“You like it ... when you don’t have to think about any else,” Casey said, warm lips ghosting his hair at his temple. His jaw was hot against his cheek, the stubble there soft, catching on his own stubble as Chuck tipped his head up at him and nodded.

“Yes ... I guess so.” It was true that it made him forget about everything else, but still ... it took a little piece of leather around his you-know-whats to do that? Did it really feel that good to give in to his naughty twinkle and just think of pleasure? My God, if he pulled him by the tether, he would come, no matter what.

Stroking his waist, Casey hummed and made growly sounds of approval, rocking his hips down a little into him, dragging along sweaty skin. “All you have to do is feel how good it is, kid. Not be afraid of it.”

“I just.... It was like being caught up in a storm.” Chuck’s hand started moving, started sliding over Casey’s stomach, over the soft hair and hard muscles. “You have a way of showing me things ... I never even could think about.”

Casey lowered his hips again to drag his stiff cock over Chuck’s stomach. “Well, we’ll take it slower. Maybe you just got to me, kid, all bound up like that.” His boyfriend chuckled, the sound bouncing against Chuck’s nervous system. “You have an effect, that’s all.”

“I do?” Chuck decided to test that theory. He lowered his head and his cheek slid over one nipple. That little bit of flesh tightened, catching his attention. He rubbed it again with his stubble, back and forth, abrading it. “Does that have an effect, too?”

Casey growled, the low and satisfying noise that had Chuck’s hips rising. “Mmm. Brown eyes, you’d best watch it.” His boyfriend rocked over him, moving against him, cock prodding his. “I may leave that on there and take my time giving you what you want.”

Chuck’s lips were next, ducking his head and soothing the pinked skin. “This is better?”

“You tell me.” One long finger and thumb pinched at Chuck’s nipple, sending sensation zinging straight down to his cock.

“Oh. Yep. Ah, that is better.” Chuck licked his lips and tried to shift under him and away from the tantalizing touch, lightly kissing Casey’s throat, nuzzling.

“You are trying to distract me, kid.” Casey reached down between their bodies for ... something. Chuck had no idea where he was headed or what he finally grabbed in his fingers, but a second later he felt a distinct tugging and tightening around his balls.

Chuck inhaled sharply and his eyes sprung wide. “OhshitOhshit – what was that?!”

“A reason for you to stop teasing the fuck out of me and pay attention,” Casey said. When Chuck just stared, his lover gave a smug look and let go of the strap, brought his hand back up to scrub lightly on Chuck’s hip. “Gonna be good now? Or do you need more?”

Chuck bit down on his bottom lip, his eyelashes lowering, and he found himself caught between that sting and the pleasure in that single word – more. Even knowing he should stop himself, he bent his head and nipped again, along Casey’s heated neck, one of his meaty pecs, before attempting to slide away, outstretched on the blanket. “I don’t know what to do with you, John Casey.”

“Hm?” Brows lowering, Casey stared at him and the empty space the kid had put between them, curiosity and concern in those bright eyes. “What is it, long legs. Something wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s only .... ” Chuck pushed the curls back from his forehead and let out a breath, but he couldn’t stay too far away from all that hot skin. Within just a moment of feeling the night sea air, he slid closer again to wrap them together in the blanket. The kid still couldn’t look at him, though, not without blushing for the millionth time, and not with that piece of silken leather still wrapped tightly around him. “You ... make me w-want to do .... things, Casey, so many things ....”

That answer surprised a laugh out of Casey. “So now you duck your head, muffin,” he said, leaning in to draw his lips over Chuck’s cheek, “right when you tell me exactly what I want to hear? Do you have any idea how hard you make me?” Casey wasn’t much for talking, Chuck had already found out that much, but the big man was more than willing to give gentle reassurances and coaxing, even comforting him by letting him snuggle right into those muscled arms. “Look at you ... so damn willing ....”

And perfect, Chuck thought he heard, but maybe it was just the water purling against the sand. Casey would never say anything so wide of the mark.

Pushing that aside, Chuck snuggled a little deeper into all that muscle. Of course, snuggling close brought his bound prick into contact with that heated belly and his hips rolled, rocking without him giving them the go-ahead to do it. “God ....” Chuck whispered, hearing his voice crack. “It’s so ....” Tight, hard ... good.

“Come and get it. Yeah, like that.” That laugh tickled his cheek, Casey’s breath warm and rich. He took one end of the leather and wrapped it lightly, smooth as the buttercream frosting, around Chuck’s length, round and round .... “You may be confused as hell right now, cupcake, but your body knows what to do.”

“Casey, what are you –” The gentle yet entirely deliberate tug answered that question. Once he had Chuck’s attention, Casey took hold of the end that was twirled loosely around his cock from crown to base, and gradually as a breeze, gave it a pull. It slowly unraveled in loops, the finest cowhide abrading the delicate skin there. The top surface of the leather was buffed, but the underbelly of it was raw and rougher, like the drag of cat tongue. And oh, God, it was not even describable.

“That’s so ....mmpn ....” Chuck got his fingers tangled in Casey’s hair.

“You see? You just have to trust in it, and in me.” As if testing his grip, and maybe his faith, Casey tossed his head, grunting happily when Chuck only dug his fingers in a little deeper.

“Want to, Casey ....” Chuck lifted his hips and bumped against him, rubbed, the straps catching along Casey’s shaft.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, shit yes ....” How could he show Casey how badly he needed to come? At the next scrape of leather and cock, Chuck pulled on his hair again. That brought Casey closer on top of him, kept him right there where they could move together. He did trust Casey, more than he could fathom.

“That’s it, kid. Keep doing that against me, and I might just take off your straps and let you come.” Casey always encouraged at the best and worst possible time. Somehow, it always made him feel so good - even when he was giving orders. Casey helped him move so they pressed good and tight, his bound prick right up against Casey’s free one. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you ..? Come for me?”

“You ...bastard, come onnn ....”

“I’m a bastard now, huh?” Casey chuckled and gave the thin strap a tug. “Even when it feels that good?”

“Oh my God. That.” Chuck threw his head back and closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t stop moving, rubbing, fighting for more contact. Every inch of his skin tingled, the need and pleasure and anticipation slamming all together in his head like a windstorm.

“Now, I think it’s time we finished this little experiment.” Casey grabbed their swinging pricks, pulling at them both in time, giving him heat and skin and the raw friction of leather.

“You ... have to.” Chuck nodded, gasping and panting into Casey’s mouth, holding Casey as tight as he could. They rocked, the time for pulling back or talking over. Casey’s body radiated heat better than any stove, making him sweat and groan. His thighs slid against Casey’s rock-hard ones, the rub of their skin together just making everything bigger. Better.

“Yeah, good boy. I think you earned it this time,” Casey said, lips brushing his. Down below, there was another tug. All of a sudden his cock was free, the straps sliding away, the tight grip on his balls loosening.

“Casey.” Chuck arched, bucking furiously, needing now.

Casey took both of their cocks in his fist, dragging up and down, hot, wet skin tight against his.

Then the world shattered all around him, bright and sparkling, white flashes almost lifting him up to the stars overhead. “God ... Casey ... yes ... please – mmnngh.”

“So nice when you beg ....” A low groan vibrated above him. With Casey’s big body pressed to him, he could feel need coiling in his stomach, and that was all he could bear with the world tightening down to that grip on their cocks. The climax exploded from him, so violently he tried to buck, push upward. Casey arrived right behind him, adding hot spunk to Chuck’s stomach, coating his skin. “Fuck ... that’s it ....”

After a long minute, filled with rasps of air and a few lazy kisses Casey dropped on Chuck’s lips, his cheek, his boyfriend landed with a heavy thunk next to him on the blanket, the loose harness still dangling from a few fingers.

Chuck shuddered, resting limp and worn but so damn content in Casey’s arms.

Without saying anything, Casey began scrubbing his fingertips lightly over Chuck’s forearm, letting him take a minute to stare up at the powerful black sky and feel his long frame sink into the blanket. The power of the physical made it all about Casey, making him come, making him not want anyone else, ever.

Looking up, the kid had an overpowering image of belonging here. He focused on two bodies locked together in dreams beneath Orion’s Belt, two men in an embrace that would always contain a hint of conflict. Casey moved his hand to entwine with Chuck’s on his chest, his lover’s on top and clasping tightly. The touch was them, a delicious wrestling that wasn’t an attempt to get away but to get more.

Was that it for Casey, restraining him, but knowing the real reason was they couldn’t run away from the power of feeling? Because ... call the kid crazy, but he sensed Casey felt something deeply as well. Was Chuck holding one of the keys to Casey’s inner gates? The most powerful one of all? Heck, was it the key to the rest?

Honestly, should Chuck be looking for a way in, knowing he may not know what to do when he got there? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t beautiful or equitable, no matter what Casey said. It just was.

He loved Casey, though. He gave his boyfriend that.

With any luck, it was enough.

“Casey? Can I tell you something?”

Casey got up on one elbow to study him, a hand coming up his chest to tangle into his hair, petting him, playing with a few curls. “Hm?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie,” Chuck said, huffing blissfully as he trailed a hand down one of Casey’s biceps, “but you are ... well, just this side of crazy when the mood hits.”

“Six. I’m going to enjoy each one, too.” Casey gave him a tap against the hip and stole another kiss, this one a bit rougher than the soft, wet kitten prints a few minutes ago.

“Mmng.” Chuck pulled back before the kiss could shatter him. Dangerous, those things. “Seriously, you could’ve warned me and I would’ve, well, maybe had two helpings of roast beef.”

“No worries, Bartowski. You’ll be getting your two helpings tonight.”

Chuck’s hand, giving little strokes to Casey’s chest, stilled and he shot him a quizzical look. “I ... will?”

Casey shrugged. “Maybe three if you ask really pretty-like.”

“But –”

“Come on, puppy. Up with you.” Casey gave Chuck’s curls one more playful tug and rose to his feet. “This blanket’s been nice, but if we keep going, we’re both gonna have sand in places we’ll never get clean. I want to show you our bedroom.”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Six Where the Road Ends-x-


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Seven

-x-

“If God had meant for me to be lugged around like this, maybe I would’ve been born with a handy carrying handle. Have you ever considered that?”

“This works fine by me.”

Chuck wrinkled his brow at his boyfriend. He couldn’t decide what was more frustrating: his protests being flatly ignored, or the fact that Casey could be an obstinate asshole without trying too hard. “See what happened right there? You missed the hidden meaning behind that.”

“You might want to duck your head, or you won’t miss the doorframe against your noggin.”

Quickly glancing to the side, Chuck saw that Casey had a point. He ducked his head just in time to narrowly miss the heavy oak moldings that framed the door from the porch. Still, geez. “If you would let me just walk, at least once we got on the deck, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“I don’t see the problem. Dining table dead ahead. Watch your feet.”

Chuck sighed and bent his dangling legs as best he could. “Seriously, is this just a way to show off your arms, because, I already knew they were, well, manly.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I’m just tired of watching you hobbling?” Casey asked.

“It was not hobbling. More like a – a stifled gait to protect the bandage.”

“Heh.”

Chuck swiveled his head to glare. “Seems like you would appreciate that since you complained about the way my sister wrapped the one you replaced. Now can you put me down? I can walk from here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Making no attempt to put Chuck back on his feet, however, Casey pushed through the doorway into the living room. The flames in the fireplace flickered with the last glowing embers, pooling amber light over the hardwood floors. “I’m only taking care of you, kid. If that bandage pops again, that crazy-ass sister of yours will try to make good on her promise to lug you off to Boston.”

“With your head on a stick.”

“Among other susceptible appendages, yes. Watch your head on the fireplace.”

Chuck darted a look to the side and automatically used the hold around Casey’s neck to pull himself into a tighter ball. “And she’s not really ‘crazy-ass’ when you get to know her.”

Casey grunted, one that Chuck loosely translated as ‘yeah, keep talking. I might believe it someday.’ “Look out. Door to the bedroom coming up on the right.”

Chuck turned his head from watching Casey’s profile to slant a look at the doorway that led to a room tucked at one of the back corners of the house. “Last stop on the tour. I still can’t believe you bought a house.”

“Our home. Get used to it.” Keeping Chuck tightly cradled in his arms, the larger and very much naked man – thank you, for that at least, God - angled sideways to get them through the entrance without knocking Chuck’s head on the door.

“See? I got here without injury. Now can you set me down? Please?

“Only if you’ll stop bitching about the mode of transportation,” Casey said before bending down to deposit Chuck on the side of the bed closest to the door. “There. You made it without falling on the stairs and cracking your head open. You can thank me later,” he added slyly.

“Gee, thanks,” Chuck mumbled, sinking into the mattress. It was a real feather bed, not crinkly corn husks, and as soft as his in Boston. “Hey, this is pretty nice. Though … um, I have a hunch we won’t be paying attention to the cushiness.”

“Good thinking. I was going for durability.” Casey glanced at Chuck’s face to ensure he got the blush he was after, and smiled when he saw he did. “You look comfortable.”

“Not bad,” Chuck said, scanning the small space as Casey reached over to light a candle on the night table. “I think I’m going to like this room.”

“Good, because you’ll be spending a helluva lot of time here.” Now that the kid was sprawled out over the quilt, Casey’s hand slid over Chuck’s bare, flat stomach and up his chest, reminding him he was as naked as Casey. “Like it, don’t you?”

“Well, I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?”

“There’s a clothes dresser in the corner.” Chuck nodded towards the pine bureau and tucked his hand behind his head, getting a little more relaxed. “I’m amazed you bothered with one. Seems needless, considering your nefarious plans, Mr. Kidnapper.”

Casey snorted and traced one hipbone, then skimmed to the flesh of Chuck’s stomach, making the kid hitch. “If your ass wasn’t so pretty when it’s bare,” he said, “you wouldn’t have this problem.” When Chuck made a face at him for being called pretty, Casey leaned over the kid and kissed down his throat, fingers digging lightly into his waist, warming the skin. “It’s all your fault.”

Stretching his back, Chuck sighed and turned that smile on him, a bit shy but mostly heated. “How is this my fault, exactly?”

“See this? Right … here.” Casey drew his hand down one of Chuck’s long legs before he scooted up right next to him, letting the kid feel something decidedly not soft at all. Even spent, his lover was all hard thighs and muscles rolling under his skin. “You look too damn fine in the firelight, kid. So you’re right when you say that you’ll be leaving your clothes off for a long while.”

Chuck relented with a nod, though understandably he saw benefits to the arrangement. “As long as you have to live by the same rules,” he said, fingers reaching over to stroke along one of Casey’s rock hard pecs, “I’m going to be okay with that, sweetie.”

Casey rolled his eyes at the compliment, just as Chuck expected he would since he never took stock in his looks. “Watch it,” Casey warned, and he bent over him, lining up his face to take a kiss, soft, yet with a promise right behind it of swelling need already beginning to rise. While Chuck vaguely wondered what he meant by the warning, Casey drew his head lower, lips gliding along the side of Chuck’s neck, his jaw brushing along the kid’s stubble. It made a little scratching noise that went straight to Chuck’s lower belly.

“You are warm. Very warm.” Chuck wriggled his hand, thought about it, and then – what the heck, why not? - reached down to touch his lover’s inner thigh. Already semi-erect from Chuck’s proximity and nakedness stretched out under him, the kid felt Casey’s cock pressing against his upper leg, reflexively straining to get to the friction of skin.

Holy crap, that didn’t take long. In Chuck’s defense, if this was the type of thing where it was even remotely politely to keep score – Ellie would not find the humor in that concept - he was ahead by one tonight, so of course it would take him a little longer.

“Roll over,” Casey said against his ear.

“Um, excuse me?” Chuck wet his lips, feeling inexplicably nervous.

“You heard me, cupcake.” The mattress creaked as Casey sat up to loom over him, the candlelight sending a burnishing glow over one side of his face. “Roll over.”

Chuck could not even think of what to say for a moment. “You – you don’t mean on my ... my knees or anything like that, I hope?” Hell, he had basically ten minutes since Casey had jerked him off in a slick combination of saliva and semen. It would probably take more than a few strong hand pumps to get him – well, to borrow a coarser term from his partner, locked and loaded. “I mean that’s a little quick, even for -”

“Are you gonna shut the hell up?”

When Chuck raised a startled gaze at him, he was pretty sure Casey was trying not to laugh. The kid found himself avoiding those amused eyes by staring up at the ceiling. “I’m still getting used to your sense of humor, boyfriend.”

Fortunately, Casey caught the meaning behind the pouty tone. “Not ready to ride your skinny little ass yet, brown eyes. I only meant that if you roll over and keep your injured leg straight, I might just be convinced to give you a back rub.”

“Oh, sorry, I just thought ... back rub? And what would this ‘convincing’ involve?”

Casey smirked down at him. “Rolling over on your stomach and laying there with your mouth closed.”

“Hm, I guess you have a deal,” Chuck said, letting the hand that had been coasting up and down Casey’s chest drop to his side with some reluctance. He would never get tired of just touching him. “I can be very quiet, by the way, when it comes to a good massage. Just for the record.”

“And then we’ll see if you can hold still when I bind up another bandage or two.”

Chuck had started to turn over, but he paused. “What?”

Casey’s hand roamed from Chuck’s ribcage to the side of his arm. He nudged his bicep, trying to get him to roll all the way over on his stomach. “You did hear me say roll over? Heh. Usually puppies catch on faster than that.”

Chuck shifted away from his hand and landed on his back again. “Wait a minute, boyfriend, I heard something right then -”

“Nothing.”

“Really, because I swear you said -”

“Your choice: you want me to go hard and deep, kid,” Casey went on as if Chuck hadn’t interrupted, “or do you need me to go slow and easy on you this time?”

“Hang on,” Chuck blurted immediately. “Bandage?”

“Don’t make this complicated, kid.” Casey put one hand on the pillow next to his head, his thumb brushing the kid’s shoulder. “Hard and deep if you feel your muscles can handle it, or more gently if you’re still sore.”

“Massage, right?” Chuck winced when his voice cracked.

“What did you think I was talking about?”

“Um, well –”

“Maybe you should just lean back, kid.” Casey reached for Chuck’s shoulder. “Later on, long legs, you can tell me all about what you were thinking ….”

“Back up the wagon, Mister,” Chuck said. He hoped that his sudden need to squirm across the quilt wasn’t sending the wrong message about the backrub. “Did you say … bind?”

“Yes, you heard me.” Casey didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch at Chuck’s suspicious look. “Now are you going roll over?”

Chuck put a hand up before he realized that might give his boyfriend the handle he might be looking for, so he quickly withdrew it. “Explain.”

“What the hell is there to explain?” Casey got up on an elbow to peer down at him. After a second or two, one big hand dug under the kid along the blanket and cupped his bottom. “I thought …. you liked it.”

Chuck’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I – did I ever say ... or make you think ... hey, careful with that hand -”

“Don’t give me that ‘who me?’ innocent look, pancake.” Casey ran a hand over Chuck’s jaw, examining his face. “Unless it was a different bookish kid with a whopper of a smile who handcuffed me to his headboard and I’m just misremembering the whole damn deal.”

Chuck frowned and blushed at the same time. “Listen, sweetie, that was just a -”

“Thought so,” Casey said, snickering as the tweaked the kid’s cheek. “But don’t worry, kid. I don’t plan on using handcuffs where the key slot is broken, lose the key, and then have to shoot them off you when a posse rides in to interrupt your … little ride.”

“It only happened the one time, sweetie,” Chuck argued stiffly between his teeth.

“Yeah? You should know something else, cowboy.” With a smile Chuck didn’t trust, Casey shifted on the mattress, pressing into him so that the heat of his bare hip lined up with Chuck’s waist. “I plan on treating your sweet little backside to a sharp lesson every time you call me that. And counting the times on the beach, that’s seven so far, Bartowski.”

“A lesson?” Chuck asked. Confused, he looked down until the realization hit him. “You wouldn’t!” Crap. He had to press his lips together as soon as the words slipped out. Maybe the details were blurry in his brain, but that might’ve been the exact sentiment the last time Casey threatened him with ... one of those.

“Don’t think so? The way I remember it, I believe I proved you wrong about that,” Casey said, giving him a lewd wink. The hand under him grabbed another squeeze before sliding out. “Yeah, I’m gonna love to see my handprint there.”

Chuck went wide-eyed. A flush of heat filled him. But the shiver? That was unexplainable. “Hey! Watch the hands, swee – big guy!”

Casey cocked a brow at him. “Nice act, brown eyes, but it seems the other thing I remember is that once you stopped complaining about being tossed over my knee, you seemed to like it.”

“I – I certainly did not,” Chuck said and suddenly found the row of windows along one wall very interesting. It wasn’t because he needed any excuse to look away from those dang blue eyes. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Just thinking about it has heated you back up ....” Casey’s hand, lightly raking over Chuck’s ribcage, slowed, the fingers tracing each rib. “Are you going argue about that?” he said in the voice that was pure sex.

Oh, God. He could not react. No way. “Hey, it has nothing to do with any of your out of the box suggestions,” Chuck said as he continued to stubbornly stare off to the side. “Maybe you should just shut the hell up,” he added, but it was drowned out over a snicker.

“Hard to argue with this, kid.” The hand on his ribs came down to his inner thigh, like a path of hot oil over his skin, and when Casey was within reach, the larger man took every liberty by cupping his prick and balls to make a point. “Even after two rounds, just the thought of my hand smacking your sweet backside is getting a nice rise out of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Chuck said, swatting at him. But when Casey’s hand stayed put, caressed just the tip with his thumb, the sound that came out of Chuck wasn’t even a bit sensible. Nor did it benefit his case.

“Tell me again you don’t like the idea?” Casey curled his hand to run just the tips of his fingers up his length.

“Wha-what are you talking about?”

“This.” Casey’s free hand cupped his ass, took a firm hold of his buttock. Then, with no warning, he bent and teased him with his tongue, licking up the side and around the crown in a way that drove Chuck insane. “That bit of sting always comes with waves of pleasure, kid.”

“Hey – oh, not fair ....” Chuck said, his toes curling. Oh, so not fair. He told himself there would be no uncontrollable shuddering or pushing up into his touch.

Well, shit. Maybe it was too late to suppress the pushing; his body did that of its own volition, but he was not going to give into it. No way.

When he opened his eyes, Casey’s strong, firm fingers clenched, his thumb stroking the long underside and oh hell. “Proved my point, Bartowski.”

Chuck shot him a betrayed look. “Weren’t you talking about a nice back rub a minute ago?” he asked, lowering his lashes to focus on anything but that big hand. “B-because I could really use one.”

Not to mention, if this probing conversation didn’t come to an end, he wasn’t sure what the hell he would agree to in the next minute or so. Dang, he hated his body sometimes. Or maybe the dark part of his brain that thought it was okay to get ... spanked.

Yay, good progress. I can think that word at least, Chuck observed, wanting to eye roll at himself.

“You still didn’t answer the question – hard and deep, or easy and slow?”

“So, for clarity, we are still talking about a massage?”

“As opposed to ..?”

“Remarkable.” Chuck sagged back against the pillow and slapped a hand over his forehead. “Even your cheek didn’t twitch.”

Casey shrugged, making those muscles on his shoulders ripple and slide. He had no idea how distracting that was. “So are you gonna finally roll over for me?”

The ‘puppy’ went unsaid, unless one counted the smirk. Which Chuck did, so he paused long enough to give him the stink-eye. “I’d like, ah, hard and deep. And don’t back off if you hear me groaning,” Chuck tacked on. “It only means you’ve found the right spot.”

“Still talking about your shoulders, huh?”

“What else would we be talking about, honey?” Chuck asked, his tone dripping with it, but he did finally roll over and settle in with his chin on the pillow. “God, the bed feels good .... “

“That’s eight ass taps.”

“Eight? But – but I said honey!”

“Hell, same damn thing,” Casey told him, “but I’ll make it worth your while.” He chuckled, fingers tracking over the swell of one butt cheek with the subtle promise, his fingertips already leaving a warm stripe in their path. “Mm, feel that? Bet someday I can make you come just with just a spanking ... and my voice in your ear.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, boyfriend. I’m going to make you work much harder than – hey, oh.” Chuck tried to raise his back, but suddenly two powerful legs along either side of his body kept him trapped, as did the weight settling on his upper thighs. “Ow, where are you going?”

“God, you make this difficult, kid. Are you going to hold still, or do I need to help you with that?”

“S-sure – I mean, yes, I’ll hold still.” Chuck buried his head in the feather pillow. Luckily, he didn’t have to look at him, now that Casey had thrown a leg over to straddle his hips. Because Chuck was pretty sure his cheeks were going to combust at the feel of Casey’s balls resting in the crease of his ass cheeks. “I should warn you though,” Chuck began to babble, “after that, um, ordeal this week, I’m probably pretty tight -”

Casey interrupted with a grunt that landed on this side of filthy.

“So you’ll have to work out any kinks in my back, okay?” Chuck made clear.

“That is the idea, princess.” Two big paws landed on his shoulder and got to work. Oh. Oh, hell, did they. “Let me know if anything hurts, will you?”

As Casey rubbed between his shoulder blades, down the center of his back, squeezing firmly before coming over to the other shoulder, Chuck couldn’t help but twist his neck and swallow against the feel of that touch. “Trust me, I’ll let you – oh ... ooohman. That’s ... yeah, right there ....”

Casey’s touch was often demanding, even overpowering. But when all that strength was channeled into being gentle and firm, stroking over Chuck’s neck, digging into muscles in sweeping circles, kneading, Chuck couldn’t help but burrow deeper into the mattress, give a little grunt of gratitude ....

“Like that, do you?”

“You do know how to give a massage.”

“Mmm. And I know you don’t believe me, but you do have a hell of a body,” Casey said, “so I guess I don’t mind getting my hands on it.”

“Permission granted. You don’t need an invitation to do this. Ever ....”

Casey’s hand moved down the wide plane of his back, sweeping down to his narrow waist, then going to the dip of his lower back. “You had an injury here. Like you’ve tied the muscle into a knot, though I suspect you had some help with that.”

Chuck wet his throat and rested his cheek on the pillow, stared at the windows. The dark beyond them created a reflection in the glass, giving Chuck the image of the perfect, naked man bathed in candlelight straddling him. “Yeah. That was my reward for letting Bryce drag me through the woods when he tried to ditch Liam. Let’s just say your old boss didn’t see the humor in the situation. He ... punched me pretty hard there before he tossed me up on his horse.”

Casey didn’t comment. He just kept kneading that area, though Chuck swore he felt his fingers momentarily clench a little. Chuck wasn’t going to tell him how Liam fondled him after that, using the excuse to hold him close to his body on the saddle. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to go there. The kid knew he needed to turn off a little while, wanted to just focus on Casey’s hands on him.

Casey ran his knuckles down the center of his back and then smoothed over his muscles. As he leaned forward so that his cheek touched the back of Chuck’s hair, the kid felt his breath there. “After I work all of those memories out of your body tonight,” he said, and his lips brushed Chuck’s nape, making his fingers clench deeper into the pillow, “I’m going to kiss every one of your welts and bruises … make all of this pain go away.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Chuck said, lifting his head a little. “Ellie always said it’s a waste of time to talk about the things I can’t change.”

“If it helps, you’ll never have to worry about those two pieces of shit again.”

Two. Funny how he had lumped Bryce right in there with Liam, Chuck thought. One day, he would have to find out from Casey exactly what happened between them when Chuck was held captive at the plantation.

“I know ... oh. Right there.” Chuck smiled and let out a moan of ecstasy as Casey hit a kink on his shoulder. After a few more minutes under those capable hands, his eyelids began to droop in sheer pleasure. Drowsiness was pulling him under, and he had no way to fight it. “You … really are the master, Casey ….”

“Heh.”

Chuck tried not to think about the humor in that noise. Darkness, warmth, and being with the man he wanted to share a lifetime with was the concoction to make him forget everything else.

Someday … he should tell Casey ….

“God … I love you, John ....” someone said, right before the kid sunk into the feather bed.

Casey went quiet. A long time passed.

An uncomfortable voice from within his dream finally spoke. “I …love you, too, Chuck.”

-x-

“Come on, buddy, you know that’s the wrong way,” Bryce was saying. “Follow me.”

When Chuck looked over at Bryce, his ex-best friend tipped his head towards the fence, and his dark hair fell over his forehead.

It was tangled with wet blood. “You can’t go back to him,” Bryce went on. “I’ve met the guy, okay? He’s dangerous. Hell, look at the trouble he got you into, Chuck. Now come on.”

“I can’t go with you.” Chuck tried to back up, but suddenly there was something hard and rough behind him. A tree. An entire forest. “You want to take me back to my father.”

“I want to save you. I know what’s best for you.” There was a hardening in Bryce’s gaze. “I always have.”

“How can you stand there and say that, Bryce?” Chuck began to turn away, needing to run. His body was heavy. So was the air around him, thick and almost like being under water. “It took me this long, I know, I must be an idiot, but everything about you is a lie. I’m leaving.”

“Chuck. Wait.” Bryce caught his arm, held him there with a fierce grip and an even fiercer look. He was closer now. The blood wasn’t only in his hair, it was on his neck and collar. “I’m the good guy here. I’m the one on your side. Not him. Casey is going to hurt you. Hey, get back here. Chuck!”

Without looking back, Chuck turned and broke into a sprint, or the closest thing he could in the wet air. It was one advantage he always had over the perfect Bryce Larkin. Long legs. He had to get some distance before he lost Bryce. Because of course, Bryce did have stamina as his advantage once Chuck started heaving and huffing.

That was the thing about Bryce. Even if he wasn’t leading in the beginning, he always found a way to win.

Chuck couldn’t let him this time. Instinct and panic had him crashing through a thicket, bare bloody feet eating up the ground. He tripped over a rock and went face first in the dirt. He’d care about how much that hurt later. In a flash, he was up again. Leaves and branches whipped Chuck’s face. There was a tug on the back of his pants as he launched himself forward, but beyond that, there was nothing, nothing but thick tree trunks and a dense copse of woody junipers and the feeling of stumbling, plummeting.

Chuck smacked into Bryce so hard he fell backwards. How was he standing there in front of him? Scrambling to his feet, he angled around to run to the left, but Bryce was there, too. “Why are you doing this Chuck?” Bryce gave him a tight smile and put his arms out to the side, herding him backwards. “Come on. Come with me. Don’t make me hurt you.” Bryce stepped forward. In the all of the tussle and running, his hair over his forehead had been pushed off to the side, matted down with blood. It gave Chuck the perfect view of the bullet hole centered directly between his eyes.

Damn. Not that he would ever do anything that drastic, but Chuck made a mental note to never, ever piss off his boyfriend.

“Please, you’re dead,” Chuck said, holding up his hands. “Just go away. This is done. You can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Yes, I can,” Bryce answered. He struck out and grabbed Chuck’s raised hand at the elbow. He twisted it in a move that was too fast for the kid, locked his arm behind him and stepped around to face him dead on. “But so can he.”

Pain shot all the way through Chuck’s side as Bryce pushed down on his shoulder, forcing Chuck down to his knees. “Ow – shit! Who – who’s he, Bryce?”

“Hello, boyo.”

Chuck struggled to break free, but hearing that tone, he froze. Wasn’t he … dead? And as horrible as it sounded, didn’t he perish in front of the kid’s eyes? Lifting his head, Chuck slowly turned in the direction of the recognizable voice. “Oh, no, no, no. This is not happening.”

Standing next to Bryce was Liam, looking spiffy in his charcoal grey suit coat and holding a cigarette loosely between two fingers. It would all seem terribly normal except for the flames lapping out of his pointed collar and up his jaw, singeing his skin there into crinkly brown folds like parchment paper.

Liam kept his eyes locked on the kid. He didn’t seem to notice his flesh burning away. “You did your job well after all, Bryce,” he said. “Leading me here. We have so much to do to him.”

“Go to hell,” Chuck still managed to say, though each word rung in his head, reverberating like a school bell again and again with a painful echo. “Both of you go back to hell.”

“Tsk-tsk,” Liam said, stepping closer. “You have so many bad habits to unlearn before I kill you. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this, boy. Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”

“Go away. You’re not here ... you can’t ....” Chuck tried to get up and run, but the hold on him crushed him into the dirt.

No, he had to fight them. If he didn’t, they win.

‘You can end this, kid.’ Another voice, one that he loved even when it got rather gruff, joined in with the school bells. ‘Don’t let them. Only you can.’

Chuck struggled. The world turned blood-purple on the edges, Bryce and Liam smiling at him, and he felt the franticness come in waves –

“Ah!” Where the hell was he? Chuck couldn’t quite remember how he got here. He sucked in a breath and sat up, eyes darting around wildly for a second or two.

Casey lay sprawled out next to him with a blanket rumpled and low on his hip. He was on his side, one long arm stretched out around Chuck’s waist.

“Oh, hell,” Chuck mumbled quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Welcome to my nightmares.”

“Is there a reason you yelled out my name, brown eyes?” a sleep-rough voice asked.

Chuck jolted. “Oh, crap. Sorry, I thought you were sleeping.”

“Which would make your screeching even more pestiferous,” Casey said without opening his eyes.

“Pestiferous?”

“Mm. Look it up. In the morning. C’mere.” When the other man shifted and pulled the kid into the warm cocoon of his chest, Chuck felt his body unwind, and he helped out by scooting into him.

Chuck stared up into the dark for a minute or two. He really did not want to lie there awake by himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sounds like you just did.” Casey sniffed and tugged him closer. “What is it?”

“Um, do you ever get used to it?”

“I’m sure there’s a point here,” Casey muttered.

“Watching ... someone die?”

Casey breathed in and out heavily, one warm hand slithering up the center of Chuck’s chest. “No.”

“Then how do you sleep?”

“I got over it.”

“But I thought you just said –”

“I said you wouldn’t get used to it.” Since Chuck was pressed right up to him, he could feel Casey lift a shoulder. “Me? I got used to it ... a long time ago.”

“That’s ... kinda scary,” Chuck said, thinking about it as he absently touched one of Casey’s biceps.

“Not if you pick the right ones.”

“Right ones?”

“Yeah.” Another shrug in the dark. “Hell, some people deserve to get shot.”

“Okay, I hate to ask,” Chuck said, squinting, “but how do you pick the right ones?”

“Eeny, meeny, miny moe, piss me off you gotta go.”

Chuck got up on his elbows to stare at him. “That’s not exactly the way the other 99.9% of the population learned that one.”

“It was a joke.” Casey finally cracked one eye open to a slit. “But some people make it easy.”

“Or ... thereabouts.”

“Good. You do see it my way,” Casey said. His hands rolled up the kid’s back, sliding over muscles that had re-knotted during the nightmare. “See if you can go back to sleep.”

“Um, okay. I’ll do my best.”

Or were there other ways to wear himself out?

Hmm.

It seemed like the least he could do since, by all indications, he had fallen asleep and left his boyfriend with a case of blue balls. Wow, even Chuck knew that ‘back rub’ was code for foreplay, and man, did he screw that up or what?

Chuck rolled over on his side to face his lover and skated a hand around his waist. Lucky for the kid, Casey hadn’t bothered with night clothes, and they were both as naked as they were on the beach hours ago.

The touch hadn’t gotten his attention. Just yet. Chuck looked past Casey’s broad shoulder to the windows on the other side of the bed. An old crescent moon, barely more than a sliver, had risen over the water during the dark, hushed hours after midnight. When he lifted his head to fluff his pillow, he could see its reflection flickering over the low waves and illuminating the road to the south. Chuck supposed Casey had picked this bedroom for practical purposes, since it would be impossible for someone to come from Beaufort without being observed from the bedroom.

Someone like an angry, vengeful sister, hell-bent on lopping off specific body parts on a certain rather large-sized kidnapper.

Chuck, still shaking off the after effects of the dream, filled his lungs and let out a breath slowly. Let them go, a voice like Casey’s told him again. He ran down a list of things he’d rather be doing. The tension receded the tiniest bit.

Lowering his head, the kid took a few moments to study that handsome face inches from his. Talk about clueless. His boyfriend had no idea he stopped both women and men dead in their tracks in the street just to look at him. And not just because of his height. Heck, no.

Something made Chuck begin to lightly scrub his fingertips over the low dip in Casey’s back. Whether Casey registered it or not, he moved into him again, and now a prominent part of his anatomy rubbed up against Chuck’s stomach.

At first, the kid thought it might be rude to keep going, to keep touching him enough to fully awaken the sleeping, horny giant. But ... then, rationally, Casey did expect to finish the night differently, right? Not with Chuck passing out from a back rub?

When Casey’s fingers began to trail down his spine, the kid realized he might be more roused than he was letting on. “Casey?” he whispered. “Are you still awake?”

Casey inhaled deeply, his hand still rubbing up and down Chuck’s back. “You do realize I can’t sleep when you’re talking?”

Well, did he expect Chuck to sleep with his cock prodding right up against him? He narrowed his eyes at Casey’s face, waiting to see if a smile would appear, but he seemed to be trying to sleep.

“John?” Chuck asked, dragging his hand down to Casey’s hip. The kid squirmed a little, and there, that’s perfect ... their cocks were better aligned without any of the blanket getting in the way. You have to feel that, right? “Are you ... awake?”

Casey made a small snuffly sound, one that Chuck found incredibly adorable and would even consider telling him so in the morning. Unless that counted as something earning a swat ….

The kid smiled at his boyfriend and gave a gentle, slow thrust of his hips. Inward, sliding along his stiffening cock, outward in another long drag. “Um, listen ... baby, I’m awake now ... maybe you can tell? So if you want to finish where we left off ... well, I’m just saying I wouldn’t complain.”

“That’s nine, Bartowski.”

“Nine?” Chuck stopped moving his hips to wrinkle his nose at him. “Hey, you are still awake.”

“Yeah,” Casey answered without opening his eyes. “And that’s nine smacks to that cute little ass of yours. Told ya I was keeping track.” The hand that had a minute ago been rolling down his spine took another path lower, and when it reached its target, Casey grabbed a handful and squeezed hard enough for Chuck to jerk his hips right into him. “Looking forward to warming up these cheeks....”

Chuck frowned at him. “Sooo, no baby either?”

“Nuh-uh.” Casey at last fully opened his eyes, and Chuck got the smirk he was waiting for. “Did you really fall asleep on me a while ago?”

“Well, technically, not on you.”

Casey lifted a brow.

“Okay, yes, I fell asleep, but can you blame me? You give a good back rub.”

“You do know that back rub is code for riding you home like a frisky colt in the spring time?”

Before he could stop himself, Chuck’s tongue snuck out, wetting his lips. “I ... did have an inkling you weren’t quite, ah, done yet.”

“Okay, then tell me: is this what gave you a clue, genius?” Casey took one of Chuck’s hands, curling it around his prick, moaning lowly as the kid’s fingers closed tentatively around him.

“Oh ... crap.” Chuck couldn’t help his own torn little noise, but he couldn’t be bothered by that. His lips parted as Casey thrust up against him. Taking the hint, Chuck’s thumb rubbed in random circles over Casey’s broad crown, down to trace his lover’s shaft. He peered at him in the dark, waiting for the reaction, and loved that he saw Casey’s bright blue eyes darken dangerously.

“Better than a back rub,” he rumbled against Chuck’s curls. “Like that.”

“I see that you’ve been patient, buddy,” Chuck said. “Actually, I’m proud of you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You should know something. I used it all up. Now keep going.”

“Aye, aye captain. Or should I call you Mr. Kidnapper until you build that boat?”

“Call me ready to shut you up.”

“Your threats sound less ominous, big guy,” Chuck answered, smiling, “when I’m … ah … well.” Have your cock in my hand. He repeated the caress, firmer this time. His hand, holding him, stroking him, had an effect that the kid never knew was possible until he met Casey. Feeling the hot skin, like velvet steel in his palm, had his own cock filling to match Casey’s hunger, his own need reflexively dragging along his length. Chuck let out a low moan, thrust against his thigh, and slid up and down him again. “God ….”

“Here, give me your hand,” Casey said suddenly.

“Wh-what? Oh?”

“Grab hold like this, kitten.” Before the kid could frown at the pet name, Casey wrapped his big paw around Chuck’s hand and erased any tentativeness in a few strokes up and down. The grip was tighter, sliding faster than Chuck would’ve done it, but anything that got Casey to close his eyes, bite down on the tip of his tongue, and rock into him had to be good, right? “There ... that’s it ....”

They moved their hips into each other, Chuck reaching up with his other hand to hold the meat of one broad shoulder, using it for leverage to draw him in. “You ... feel as if you have a fever, Casey ....” Chuck murmured.

“All your fault. You make me that way, kid.” Casey dragged their hands up and down his own prick, showing Chuck how he wanted it if he ever let go. When he finally did, trusting the kid had learned another lesson in friction and speed, the hot flesh of Casey’s cock leapt, and his boyfriend’s hips rolled towards him. “Shit. That’s it.”

“What … do you want next, John?” Chuck ventured, getting braver. It always sent shivers to hear it. “Tell me, okay?”

“Just you, brown eyes. You … heat me up from the inside.” Casey leaned in and took a kiss, probably because he noticed things, such as Chuck’s soft, bruised lips just waiting for him. “I could heat you on the inside too ... if you’re ready for me ....”

That kiss went deep, Chuck opening up for the press of his tongue. The kid’s arm wrapped around his shoulder while the fingers around Casey’s cock pulled faster, harder.

It seemed to be what he liked. Chuck curled his fingers a little tighter, squeezed, watching Casey carefully that he hadn’t gone too far. Instead, there was an appreciative response from his lover, a bolt of a thrust to the touch. Chuck’s free hand slid down to explore the hair on his chest, his nipples, the hollow of his collarbone. His other hand continued to test him, encouraged him to greater heights of pleasure by tracing the vein at the underside of his cock.

“Oh, fuck … you do have the instincts, kid ....” Casey’s whisper was hot in his ear. His boyfriend jerked, rocking into him, the heat between them making both of their bodies slick with sweat. “Do you still feel like a dip in pure white snow, princess ..?” Casey’s hand drew lower, found the pucker of his asshole. If there was any ambiguity around what still felt pure the last time he checked, that cleared it all up.

“Um –”

“Want me to heat you there, too, kid ... you want that?” Casey said, his voice no more than a low growl. “Get warm on the inside?”

Chuck made a sound between a laugh and a cough. “It has been a while – not that I was counting or anything.” When Casey furrowed his brows, the kid took a kiss from Casey’s parted lips. “Except I have news for you.”

“Unless it involves shutting up and getting on your back –”

“Surprisingly – um, well, no – it doesn’t.”

“Then I’m sure I don’t want to hear it.” Casey’s lips closed over a mark he had left earlier on the kid’s tender neck, and he stroked back down to the sensitive insides of Chuck’s thighs. “You’re ... too much temptation, brown eyes. You make me want to turn you inside out.” He sucked at that tiny raised flesh again, teasing -

Chuck gasped as the movement with his tongue went straight to his own cock. “Gnph … I mean, ow.”

“Make up your mind,” Casey breathed into his ear. “Like it or not?”

“I do – but – hear me out. I think ... you’ll like what I want to propose,” Chuck said. Since Casey was still not paying attention to anything but worrying the love bite, the kid took matters into his own hand, dipping his head to nip at his shoulder, teeth scraping just enough to sting. “You’ll be the one on your back, big guy. And I’m going to be the one, ah, doing the riding tonight.”

“Really. Is that so?” For some reason, he sounded skeptical.

A thought, no, more of a vision, hit the kid between the eyes. “Oh, hang on, I don’t mean – oh, boy. You see, I don’t think I ever want to, um – how do I say this ….”

“Try put your penis where it is never, ever gonna go, sunshine?”

“Uh, correct. That is not what I meant. At all.” Chuck cleared his throat and felt heat slide up his neck to his cheeks. “I mean, well, sit on your lap and … oh, geez ….”

Now Casey studied him before a sly smile appeared. “Yeah, I do like that idea.”

“Um-hmm.” Chuck nipped him again and smiled.

The little pain at first had Casey chuckling, squeezing Chuck’s balls lightly. That was until the kid put a hand on the larger man’s shoulder to push him down flat on the bed.

“Hey. Hey, what’s –!”

Chuck wasn’t exactly certain how it happened, but one moment he managed to turn Casey on his back, got one leg over to straddle his thighs, and the next second he was the one pressed like a pancake to the mattress with Casey on top.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Bartowski?”

Chuck surveyed his new predicament and blinked up at him. “Um, maybe you missed what I said just then?”

Casey, straddling his waist in same manner Chuck had hoped to find himself, bent over him to stare dead straight into the kid’s startled eyes. “Again, mind telling me, stud, just what the fuck you think you’re doing?”

“I would’ve thought that an ... experienced man like yourself would’ve understood that, John?” Chuck gave a quick look see over at his wrists, which Casey had somehow managed to clamp onto faster than the kid could move. He now had them firmly pressed into the pillow on either side of his head. “Now do you mind getting up? You’re not exactly light, you know?”

Casey peered down at him. “Fine, as hostage taker, I can see I’m going to have to assert myself.”

Chuck opened his mouth to ask what he mean by assert, but Casey broke off the protest by taking advantage of his parted lips with an incursion. His tongue slid against his own, the kiss long and slow, easy. Releasing one wrist, he cradled Chuck’s head, tilting him so that the kiss could go deeper, stronger. Immediately, it made the kid forgive Casey for this mysterious assertion and to forget everything but his own need.

“What – what was that all about?” Chuck asked, slightly panting when Casey broke the kiss. He peered wide-eyed up at his captor, who seemed to have settled into his perch on top of him quite comfortably. “I thought ...you’d like it?”

Casey shook his head slowly until he realized perhaps how that would look. “Oh, trust me. I would. That’s gonna come later.”

Chuck wriggled the fingers of his trapped hands, but Casey held on. “I don’t get it. I – thought you would –”

“Hell, yes, and I should gag you, or I swear, long legs, you might be able to talk me into it.”

“Might?” With Casey sitting on top, a prominent piece of anatomy was awfully close to Chuck’s mouth, so the kid glanced down before he could stop himself. “Superfluous question, but why in God’s name would I need to talk you into it?!”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Did you forget something, kid? Jesus, all night I’ve been careful about that damn leg of yours, and now you want to climb on and ride?”

“Yes, so if you would just get up – hey!” Chuck shot him a look when he put more of his weight on him to keep him down. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Listen, no matter how badly I might want that – and trust me, muffin, this is taking everything I’ve got not to just let you – you’re gonna have to be a good boy and just stay on your back until I think you’re ready.”

Chuck thought about it and changed tactics, flashing him a shy smile. “I’m ready.”

Casey squinted at that smile and shook his head. “You can’t bend your leg.”

“My leg is fine.” Chuck tried to buck him off, until common sense kicked in. If John Casey wanted to hold him down, that simply meant the kid wasn’t going anywhere until his lover was damn well ready for him to go. “Come on, I promise!”

Casey looked down at him and snorted. “Whoa, cowboy – you already bled enough tonight.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to stop me.”

“Not trying. Will.”

“But –”

“Listen, rodeo Joe, when your leg is healed, we’re going to sit our asses in the sand and you can grind me all the way to fucking China if that suits your fancy! Sure as hell would suit mine, sweet cheeks – but until then, I want you on your back. Safe. Got that?”

“Wait a minute. This is about returning me in one piece to my sister?”

Casey just looked down at him, but the fingers around the kid’s wrists convulsed into tighter fists at the mention of Ellie. “No, it’s about taking care of you. Something I promised myself I would do,” he said, one thumb scrubbing the pulse of the kid’s wrist. “When you’re better, you can take care of me. And trust me, kid. It’ll be a banner day in my book.”

“Today can be a banner day, if you’d let me,” Chuck grumbled, relaxing his wrists in the hope Casey would let go.

“We’ll have plenty of time.”

Chuck huffed in resignation. “Can you let me go now?”

“Sure, I have to get something anyway.”

Chuck turned his head to see Casey reach for his satchel. In a heartbeat, his boyfriend was straddling him again with one hand digging through the bag. When Casey found what he was looking for, he watched the kid speculatively and Chuck felt fingers against his skin; he had slid the hand closest to Chuck up his ribcage, and now he was just skimming the bare flesh there.

“Should I be worried?” Chuck asked, though the soft touch unwound his muscles a little.

“Have I ever done anything that caused trouble?”

“You really do not want me to answer that, do you?”

Casey made a noise of begrudging agreement, and for some reason began to unravel the spool of bandage he had pulled from the bag. “Hold still.”

Chuck slanted a look down towards his bare leg, but the last he recalled before Casey used him for a seat was that there was no sign of blood seeping through the wrap on his upper thigh. “Why am I holding still?”

“Here. I’ll show you,” Casey said. Instead of reaching for his leg, he took a length of bandage and circled one of Chuck’s wrists. “I noticed you had some bruises here ... where that bastard tied you up and dragged you through the woods,” he added in a pissed-off tone. “God, if only I could kill both of them again ….”

“Nice thought, swee - ahem. What – what are you doing -”

“I can’t help but notice, kid, you still have some rope burns here.”

“I do?”

“Mm.” Casey frowned as Chuck tried to take his hand back. He solved that little problem by taking hold of his wrist and began to wrap the length of cotton around it. “I’ll get these bandaged up for you – Christ, if you can stop squirming for one second, Bartowski. This will help – soft, see?”

“You do know that’s not how to apply a bandage – hey.” Chuck’s eyes got even wider as he tried to sit up. “Hey, watch it!”

“Seems fine to me,” Casey replied. His hand took the loose end, gave it a light tug to bring Chuck’s arm up and to the side ... so that he could tie it to the headboard.

Chuck watched what he was doing for a millisecond before his mouth fell open. “Why are you doing that?!”

“Because the rope might be too rough on that delicate skin, pancake.” Casey tied off the end and patted Chuck’s cheek. “There. See?”

“That’s not my point!”

“Glad you’re testing it for me. Seems tight enough?”

Chuck gawped up at him and automatically twisted his wrist again. Somehow, being Chuck, he managed to tighten the knot even more. Giving up on that, the kid used his free hand to swat at the palm currently patting his cheek in the most obnoxious, smart ass manner imaginable. “You can’t do that! I had – pl – plans!”

“Yeah?” Casey shrugged in that way he had when he wasn’t listening. “Stop wriggling.”

“Wow. Really?” The kid tried to swat again, but realized a second too late that swatting at Casey was another mistake. That move put his hand right next to Casey’s, so Casey simply scooped it up and began to wrap the next section of bandage around his other wrist. “Can I please have my –”

“And in a week or so from now, pumpkin, I’m gonna make sure you hold up that part of your bargain. Hell, I’ve never been to China. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Please explain one more time – why are you doing this?!”

“Simple. If you’re bandaged down like this –”

“See, now I’m thinking of the word ‘tied’ –”

“- can you bend your leg? Reopen that wound?”

Chuck gave a quick look down and rolled his eyes. “That would be no.”

“Can you climb up and put your fool leg at an angle that will pop those sutures?”

“No, of course not!” Chuck yanked on one arm until the bandage dug in.

“Gonna bleed all over the bed when you try to get up on your knees?”

“I can barely move!”

“See? Safe.” Casey patted his cheek and grazed a thumb over his bottom lip. “You just answered your own question.”

It took everything not to bite him, but God knows what his crazy boyfriend would do next. “You are so aggravating, you know that?”

“Stubborn, too.” Casey paused to give a little pull, and Chuck felt his arm lengthen across the pillow in order to reach the bed slat on the other side of his head. “Long arms come in handy, eh?”

Chuck looked side to side, up his arms, raised and spread out like a thief who had been taken into custody. By a sheriff who was enjoying this just a little too much, he supposed. “This is not exactly what I had in mind!”

“I’m sure I can change it for you.” Casey got up on his knees and stretched over him to tie off the second knot. Whether it was on purpose or not – Chuck had a hunch the big asshole didn’t have many accidents like this – the long reach caused his cock to move directly over Chuck’s face, and his balls might’ve landed on Chuck’s chin but he was too busy staring cross-eyed to pinpoint what was now rubbing his jaw.

“Oh. Well, hello to you, too!” Chuck groused.

Casey glanced down at Chuck’s gaping mouth. “I like your enthusiasm, there, cupcake, really I do, but I already gave that to you one time tonight. Not that you didn’t get a gold star for that, but I was planning on testing out your tight little hole this time.” He stroked Chuck’s hair and pointed that shit-eating … sexy grin down at him. “You won’t mind, will you?”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Seven Where the Road Ends-x-


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Eight

-x-

 

“I’m sure I can change it for you.” Casey got up on his knees and stretched over him to tie off the second knot. Whether it was on purpose or not – Chuck had a hunch the big asshole didn’t have many accidents like this – the long reach caused his cock to move directly over Chuck’s face, and his balls might’ve landed on Chuck’s chin but he was too busy staring cross-eyed to pinpoint what was now rubbing his jaw.

“Oh. Well, hello to you, too!” Chuck groused.

Casey glanced down at Chuck’s gaping mouth. “I like your enthusiasm, there, cupcake, really I do, but I already gave that to you one time tonight. Not that you didn’t get a gold star for that, but I was planning on testing out your tight little hole this time.” He stroked Chuck’s hair and pointed that shit-eating … sexy grin down at him. “You won’t mind, will you?”

“My ...?”Chuck managed. Okay, yes, it was very okay, but he wasn’t going to just come out and blurt that. So instead, his dark eyes searched over him, the mixture of confusion and desire obviously a big turn-on for Casey, since his muscles seem to go taut as he settled back on his knees again. “Well ....”

Casey just looked at him. “You know, kid, any other answer besides yes might just earn you another one of those ass taps.”

“Sometimes you really do look like you’re serious when you say that.”

“This look like my joking face, brown eyes?” Casey deliberately and provocatively ran the back of his knuckles down Chuck’s ribcage, softly bumping along each rib. “You do like it, don’t you?”

“Um – oh.” Chuck closed his mouth, or rather had it closed for him, right as Casey bent over him and kissed. He increased the pressure behind it, coaxed the kid’s lips open, his tongue seducing him into an erotic play of push and suck. God, Chuck didn’t think he could get any harder, but he did, just with Casey’s tongue playing along his.

When Casey pulled back, his blue eyes studying his face, he reached under him and clamped down on his ass, fingers teasing the crease. “Is that your answer?” his boyfriend asked. “Gonna let me, aren’t you?”

“What – which question? Oh.” His ... yeah, that place. Though Casey had no problem saying what he meant, Chuck still couldn’t even think it. “Okay, y-yes,” Chuck said. “Though you do see the problem, correct?”

“Problem?”

Chuck did the only thing he could. He wriggled his hands. “I can’t move like this – how am I going to – you know, touch –?”

“I’ll be doing all the touching for us right now, kid,” Casey informed in a tone that left no room for argument. “No rodeos for you until I give you the say-so, cowboy.”

“I didn’t realize I would need permission,” Chuck said, trying to scowl. It was a bit of a challenge to look peeved when his cock was this hard, however, so the kid settled for breathing out petulantly and looking up at the ceiling. “Wait until it’s my turn,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, kid. It is your turn.” Casey laughed deep in his chest and scooted down until he could put one knee between Chuck’s thighs. “Let me help you.”

“Is it like the help I’ve had so far?” Chuck had to ask, wriggling his hands again.

“Nah, more like this.” Casey slid a hand onto his lower thigh and exerted some pressure, so Chuck knew he wanted his knees splayed, increasing the angle in order to access -

“Holy Cr-ah!” Chuck’s teeth snapped together as Casey started to circle one fingertip against the tiny pucker between his ass cheeks. “Casey, that’s, um - wow.”

“I should warn you, cupcake,” Casey said lowly, testing, dipping just a hairsbreadth in and out while his eyes took a leisurely stroll down the kid’s prone body. “I hope you don’t want an hour or so of lady-talk feelings or another massage, because my cock has been ram-rod stiff for too long.”

“I – I may have noticed.”

“And I plan on doing something right quick about that.” He emphasized his words with another nudge.

“Casey – I -” Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, his groin going from tepid to slow burn with every gentle prod.

“There it is ... yeah. Can’t wait to put my dick there ....” The entire time Casey explained how this would go down, his finger teased the rim, then stroked along the crease. “You do remember what that was like, eh?” He leaned in and brushed his lips with Chuck’s, just a taste, even as Chuck strained for more. And now that the kid’s arms were extended out to either side, it was easy for Casey to run his hands over to one wrist to give it a test pull, draw his palm down the kid’s chest, play with his sensitive nipples. “Now you’ll never have to forget ....”

“You sound like you plan on ... keeping me.” The kid was struck again at the thought, to stay here in one place after all the running to make his home. Stay with a man he ... wanted to spend a lifetime with.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Casey said.

Chuck angled his head to look over at one wrist tied tautly in the bandage and gave it a little tug. “Just ... maybe not exactly like this.”

“Heh.” Casey shrugged, making muscles slide under his skin. “We’ll see. Come tomorrow or so.”

Chuck glared up at him. It was a long, long time to be tied to a bed. He had to be joking about that, too.

Probably.

Casey’s fingers left his hole, rose to Chuck’s flesh, to the heated shaft that waited for more attention. “You’re sweet. Hot.” That came with a breathless chuckle as Casey then brought his hand back down to rub up and down his cleft. Dip that finger again, just in, out.

Chuck jerked, fingers curling into fists, his hole seeming to squeeze closed.

Casey lifted a brow at being shut out. “You do remember how this works, cupcake?”

“Um, yeah ... it’s just ....”

“Remember, stud. Breathe. You’re gonna let me in, aren’t you?” Since Chuck was helpless to do anything, Casey gave his cock a few more strokes. “You seem like you want to ....”

Chuck groaned, pushing and rocking his hips upward as his cock slid against Casey’s palm. “I l-like that .... You, um, make me ... want things.”

“I do, huh?” When Casey bent over him to drop a kiss on Chuck’s mouth, the kid moaned against his lips at that hand still working his cock. “You’re a wonder, you know that, kid? So much natural need, yet so damn timid ... we’ll be working on that, too, won’t we?” Casey let his hands and mouth wander, biting here, pinching there. There was nothing the kid could do. Well, except one thing. With every touch, every taste, it earned Casey an awkward hip thrust or a new sound, another quiet moan.

“Oh ... that is so not nice,” Chuck said, closing his eyes. Arching into his hand, he tugged again at the tightly wrapped bandages keeping his arms stretched out, but that was only earning him the softest kind of abrasion and an eye roll from Casey.

“Need to get you good and slick,” Casey said, pulling back a bit. From the way the mattress shifted, Chuck knew he had risen up and reached over to get something. While one hand kept working his cock, the fingers testing Chuck’s hole disappeared. The kid cracked an eye open to see his other hand found the grease pot on the night table, and Casey was already popping off the lid. Naturally, all this did was afford Chuck a better view of his ass, and he groaned softly at the sight.

Casey turned to catch the kid gawping. “If I didn’t know better, muffin, I’d say you’re staring at something you wanna sink your teeth into.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Chuck mumbled, dodging his eyes to the ceiling. “I just wanted to know what you were doing, that’s all. Almost forgot about that ... slippery stuff.”

“You wouldn’t forget in about five minutes from now, pancake,” Casey said. Two fingers got good and oiled before he slipped them between Chuck’s ass cheeks, down and inward to press against him. “Mm. There ....”

“God ....” Chuck flexed his fists, feeling his hole clench around his boyfriend’s finger. “Casey ....”

“Yeah? Think I’m hard enough for you there? Going to make you feel it. Every bit of it. Only because you’ll want to, kid.” Casey pressed in, his fingertip spreading him. “That’s it ... that’s it ... just open for me.”

“Oh ... that’s ... so gnph,” Chuck said, feeling his words clog up and get all jumbled. Man, if he didn’t know better, he’d think he was in trouble. There was so much more that was going to have to fit.

“Shh, it’s all right, puppy. All right.” Bending over him, Casey soothed his mouth against his jaw, lifted his head to brush Chuck’s lips, opening them for a kiss that curled the kid’s toes. It spoke to him, how Casey could ease him with his words, making him trust him without question that he would take care of him. “I have you right here … not going anywhere, are you?”

God, but he just wanted to be able to move, to grab. If only he could get out of these ropes-slash-bandages.

“Listen, I ah – oh God – promise not to bend or anything – okay – shit, shit ....”

“There you go.” Casey kept gliding his fingers along the crease, stopping at his tiny pucker to slip in to the first knuckle or so, letting the slick work into the skin there, letting Chuck feel how good that could be. “Like it?”

“You’re all ... hot and ... wow,” Chuck managed. One of Casey’s legs slid alongside his, opening the kid up. Or maybe he did it on his own. Things were getting a little confusing. “Yeah.”

“Spreading, eh? Such instincts, pancake.” Casey put his other hand on Chuck’s stomach, giving it a little massage. “You really do remember how much you want this.”

“I – I also seem to remember how much you enjoy teasing me,” Chuck muttered. “Oh, God.” His body took control that time, boring down a little on his finger.

“Mmm. Easy there, brown eyes. I’ll let you when you’re ready.” Casey grinned and tapped his cheek. “Making me harder. Wanna go down on it, don’t you?”

Momentarily forgetting his predicament, the kid felt the tug the second he tried to swat at him, and instead tried to nip the hand patting his cheek. “Casey – really, I won’t try anything, okay?”

Casey grunted. “Yes, I know that. In fact, pumpkin, I was the one that made sure of it.” Leaning over him for a wet kiss, he pulled back to drag one of his hands up to Chuck’s left wrist and circled his fingers around the bandage. “I just happen to like this .... I like that you’re letting me do it. Do whatever I want.” He paused to stare down at him as though he dared the kid to argue. “Good thing it happens to be what you want, too.”

Chuck frowned. Did he? “You’re ... kind of controlling,” he said, lifting his head to give him the wounded-puppy look that usually worked. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Casey eye-rolled and pinched his cheek again. “Cute, but you’re frittering away your time, sunshine. You do need more slick, though.” He wasted not a second getting more of the grease, watching the kid speculatively while he slicked a few fingers. Looming over him to look in his eyes, Casey lowered his hand, his forefinger touching Chuck’s hole again. Pushing in a little. Then a little further.

“Oh. Right there,” Chuck murmured and then blushed at himself. That tiny spot tensed, squeezed tight against Casey for a moment before he distracted Chuck with another kiss, a series of gentle strokes with his tongue that seemed to relax him everywhere.

“Good boy,” Casey told him against his lips. He rubbed his stubble on Chuck’s neck while he continued to massage his belly, knowing how that would tickle him.

“Now that is not fair,” Chuck blurted, doing his best not to laugh or jolt.

“Mm. You relaxed,” Casey said. Then he let his finger slide right into Chuck, right past the ring of muscle that tightened up around him. “There you go. You open so nice for me, don’t ya?” he went on in a scratchy whisper. “There?”

“Oh -” Chuck choked on the reaction as Casey’s fingers eased into him, working him. His body rippled. It was sweet as anything, and he could imagine it, tight heat holding Casey’s prick deep inside in just a minute if he would stop teasing him. “God, Casey ....”

Chuck’s willingness seemed to have an effect on his lover. He heard Casey moan against his jaw, pulling his finger out, only to push it in again. “Just like that, kid. Fuck down on it for me. Wanna show me you’re ready?”

“When I get free, I’m going to –”

“You’re going to what?” Chuck bucked as Casey’s fingers started to press in.

“I -” Chuck, trying not to think of his embarrassingly wanton body or how he would even finish that, let his hips take control, humped down on his finger. When Casey pulled back to watch, Chuck’s eyes searched his face, tongue slipping out to wet his parted lips. “Just - I am ....okay?”

“Christ, look at you. You’re temptation made in flesh, button.” Carefully, gently, he added another finger, Chuck’s body tightening at the reminder of what was coming. Not that he had done it that much. Honestly, sex up until now was always slipped in between getting a jump on a posse or after a good gun fight. Or a myriad of other life-threatening situations that seemed to follow them like a hungry, stray cat. A frightening thought in itself, but not much to go on. “That’s it. Gave you a little more, pancake ... Fuck down on that ....”

“Yes, oh ...mmph.” Chuck squirmed but the ropes – dang, they might as well be ropes! – didn’t allow him enough movement. “Jesus, Casey ....”

“You’re doing well for a barely broken-in colt, pancake. And just so you know, I do plan on fixing that ‘barely broken-in’ status no matter how long it takes.”

Casey settled over him, their lips pressed together, his tongue sliding over the moan trapped in Chuck’s mouth. The fingers pressed deeper, one fingertip brushing over something hidden within him that made Chuck jerk. His eyes flew open.

“God, what was that...?!” Chuck panted, twisting this way, that way. The tugging didn’t do any good. Dang it. The man was still like an ambush when it came to his knot-tying tricks.

“Yeah, good, you feel it.”

“What? What do I - yes – oh.” Chuck pressed his lips together and twitched when Casey prodded it, whatever it was, again.

“Yeah, right there. That’s the little place that catches you between heaven and hell.” Casey pushed in against that spot, leaned back a little to watch what it was doing to him. “I can find it again for you with my cock. Would you ... like that, kid ...?”

Of course, Casey showed him by hitting it again.

Oh, shit.

“Casey ....” No, he was not going to beg the big asshole. Ropes, remember? He did have some dignity. “Oh, shi....”

“You ready for me, pancake?”

“I am ... just wait.” My God, if the fingers made him feel this full ... but it was worth it and more, he remembered that much.

“Can’t wait to see your face ... when I’m inside you,” Casey said, his fingers easing just some of the movement, unrelenting but not as deep. In … and out. Again.

“Oh, crap.” How could Casey even keep talking, just watching what he was doing? How was something so … simple already making the kid want to claw the sheets?

“Know what you do?” Casey asked.

Chuck wasn’t exactly sure if that was a request to give him a reaction or a real question. “N-no?”

“You bite down on the tip of your tongue like you wanna tell me every dirty thought in your head that you’re holding back.”

“I – I do not.”

“Heh.” Casey buried his head in the crook of the kid’s neck, nipping him there. “You tremble like you’re gonna break. You dig your fingers into my arms or curl them into my hair if I let you, tangling and pushing into me like a little wild cat ....” One more time for good measure, his finger prodded that sensitive zone, and Chuck dug his fingernails in his palms and hissed his name or something that sounded like asshole. “Gonna push for me, kid?”

Either way, Casey rewarded the word with a deep, sharp kiss. His fingers moved in and out while their lips locked together, his mouth nearly bruising Chuck’s but the kid pressed into him with the same force. He couldn’t stop, not for all the stars above them streaking the sky. Chuck began to move with him, hips rolling and bucking into those fingers deep within him. “You – you really do bring out the worst in me … maybe you are a bad influence – just like Ell – oh, God. Right there. Never – never mind.”

“Who?” Casey’s hand stilled on purpose.

“I – I said never mind. You d-did hear that right then?”

“Now you’re using that brain, eh?” Casey said, paying him with a poke, in, out. His boyfriend held his gaze for endless moments before Chuck simply nodded. Pleased by that, Casey lowered his lips for a kiss, shoving into him, letting him feel the full press of his length against his thigh.

“You’re ... going very slow,” Chuck said when Casey pulled back.

“Want me inside you?” He could feel how much Casey wanted that, the thick cock rubbing, wet and hot. So ready.

“As badly as I need ... to breathe.” Maybe worse, because his last lungful was caught in his chest, trapped.

“Want that, too.” With two fingers, Casey pushed against his crease again, the tips just sliding inside him this time.

Somehow, Casey’s admission of need loosened him up, drawing out a deep moan that went on and on. “Oh. Jesus ....” Chuck let out softly. “Feels so good.”

Casey smiled at Chuck’s soft utterance and curled his other hand loosely over one of the kid’s tightly bandaged and bound wrists, holding the joining point of the cloth. His fingers betrayed a slight quiver of his own, something Chuck would like to point out to him after Casey did what he promised to do.

“You’re bucking into my touch. It’s like you were born to it, brown eyes. Hell, maybe you were.” Casey at last stopped touching him in that place that was going to make him spurt like a twelve year old, kissed his cheek and murmured in his ear, “You just didn’t know it until I found you out there in that desolate hole.”

“Desol – what now?”

“Not that one, cupcake ...though ....” Casey kissed and licked and finally pulled his fingers out to smirk down at him. “Same question. You ready?”

“Yes ... but, um – well, no sense on asking you that - because I’m pretty sure the answer is pressing against my leg.” Holy cow, Casey was not a small man.

“That’s all your fault, kid.” One hand slid down, reaching for Chuck’s needy prick, even as Chuck’s eyes begged him for more. He tried not to think logically, like how he was certain what was about to happen defied everything he knew about weight and mass equations, but his body seemed eager to blow any pesky theories out of the water for the sake of raw gratification.

“Casey, you know, if you would just untie ….”

“Shh. That’s it. Next time we do this, I’ll let you touch yourself instead of me, eh? But right now, you just keep that hard for me.”

“D-did you say let me?”

“That’s right.” Casey rolled Chuck to his side, moving to cuddle up to his spine, the curve of his ass and back of his thighs. The light fur of his chest tickled along Chuck’s back, enveloping him in warmth from neck to knees. Something hard and velvety-soft trailed along his crack. “It’ll be easier this way, at least to start. Later on, when your leg is ready, you can give me that ride you promised. Soon, huh? Lift your good leg up just a little ....”

It was a good thing the bandages had a bit of length that allowed him to turn without straining his arms, something that made him realize John Casey planned out every damn thing to the last detail. Still, with his arms trapped and now sideways over his head, Chuck shot a look at him over his shoulder. “Anything else? Mr. Kidnapper? I mean, look at me! I’m just, well, laying here when I could be – oh, oh shit.”

As Casey rubbed a few fingers down the kid’s crease, Chuck leaned back toward him, the trust and need there taking over, leading Casey to grab ahold of that pale nape and bite, let his teeth scrape and mark. Casey licked and moved, his prick rubbing Chuck’s cleft, up and down, pressing between the muscled cheeks. “Yeah ... that’s it, wanna feel it, brown eyes?”

“At this point, would I have a choice?” Chuck asked, wriggling his hands bound overhead.

“Want me to stop?” Casey asked, kissing his neck and oh, he pressed in again with that long cock, prodding in his crease without breaching him yet.

“N-no ... God, no. I was just – ah - just um, teasing I guess.”

“Leave that to me, puppy ... I’ll tease that little spot you like so much until you whimper for me .... How’s that?”

Chuck relaxed, pushed back towards him, the slow rocking matching Casey’s movements. “I do not whimper.”

Casey grunted, the one that sounded both amused and skeptical. “Keep telling yourself that.” Now Casey reached around him to give the kid a few pulls on his cock, up and down, ready to start the avalanche. “See how good that feels?”

Chuck blushed and groaned, rippling against him. “I – I shouldn’t have to remind you, but um, it has been a long time ….”

“Are you worried I’ll hurt you?”

Boy, one thing about his lover was that he never minced words. “Well, no … maybe a tiny bit. Okay, yes. I mean, I know this sounds terribly humiliating – and specific - perhaps – but I have seen what you are working with there, boyfriend, and like I said -”

Thank God Casey slanted his head and lightly bit his neck. Otherwise, God knows how far he would’ve babbled on that topic.

“Ow. Okay. I get it ….” Chuck swallowed thickly and leaned back into him. “I’ll stop now.”

“Try to relax ....” Casey chuckled, lips pressed into his hair at the back of his head. “Funny how nature has a way of making it all work. Kind of a signal it was meant to happen.” His boyfriend rolled his hips forward again, pressing harder, making Chuck feel him. “I do remember that first time. You just had to trust me, didn’t you?”

Chuck turned his head, as far as he could anyway, and stared over into his eyes. “I still do.”

“You tensed.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” Casey drew a hand down his chest and took hold of one hip. “Thought this would work. I’ll put you on your back again.”

“Sorry – ah – okay, then. Hello,” Chuck said, finding himself flat on his back again. “That’s fine, just toss me around. I didn’t mean to, um, ruin your plans.” He had to wonder if there was a playbook of sexual exploits he missed somewhere in his upbringing.

“Can it, kid. We’ll save that one for later.”

“It didn’t really hurt, being on my leg like that,” Chuck offered up.

“Never gonna hurt you, pancake. Anything I do is for feeling good, kid. I swear by that.” Casey met those eyes, serious as a cave-in. And that was why Chuck trusted him now, in everything.

“I believe you,” Chuck said, and he found himself glancing to the right then the left at both arms spread out over the cover and the knots at his wrists. “Which is a pretty good thing, I guess, considering you could do anything right now and I couldn’t stop you.”

“Who says you would want to?” When Chuck peered up at him, Casey had that look of wonder on his face, the bright blue eyes hot and needy.

“You may have a point.” Being examined so hungrily, Chuck felt the flush climb up his belly, his prick dripping, bobbing up against the meat of Casey’s thigh. “You can ... anytime, really.”

“Getting impatient? I like to hear it.” Casey grinned down at him and reached for the grease once more, slicking himself up with some of the oil. “Would love to take you in my mouth again, kid,” he rumbled, his hand trailing up and down the kid’s dick, “but I can’t wait any longer, either.”

“We’re ... finally on the same page.”

Casey snickered softly. Chuck felt something hard and slippery up against him, just as Casey snubbed the head of his prick right up to the kid’s hole, ready to push. “Yeah, wanna be in that hot body so badly, kid ....”

“Ah. That’s -” Chuck couldn’t help it; though he was perspiring, a shiver went through him. “It’s going to ... I know.”

“Shh. Right here with you. Gonna make you burn a little at first.” Casey reached under one of Chuck’s thighs and a strong hand dug into the back of his uninjured leg. He lifted and bent it for the kid, the move spreading Chuck’s cheeks and giving Casey the access he was after. “Yeah, that’s perfect, princess. Just like that ....”

“Please ... j-just. You can, okay?” He needed it, but those were the only words he could manage. Chuck, nearly vibrating as he waited for him, looked up at Casey while he grabbed on to his cock and lined himself up again. The other hand slipped around to hold onto Chuck’s cock as he slid in a scant inch.

Oh, God, did he ....

“You remembered that,” Casey said, running a hand down his shaft, playing a thumb around the smooth crown. “Always like to hear you ask really pretty-like, kid ....”

“God, Casey ....” Chuck closed his eyes, immediately hit with the memories of what it was like to be penetrated by the man over him. Casey was everywhere, holding him, inside him, pushing. It didn’t take long, and man, Casey was right about the burning. “If I say no ... I don’t mean it ... it’s just ....”

“It’s been awhile. I know.” Casey’s husky voice was the embodiment of reassurance. “I can go as slow as you need to.”

His hand continued to stroke him, up and down, and if it was part of a plan to get Chuck to focus on the pleasure and not the discomfort for now, well, it was working. The firm drag up and down had Chuck instinctively trying to push into that tight hand, his body urging him faster and faster.

The downward shift of Chuck’s hips also brought Casey a little deeper each time. Maybe that was all part of the evil yet so perfect plot to make the kid take more of him.

Casey smiled at the reaction, yet resisted, sliding in as slowly as he promised. Too slowly. Chuck’s cock, fisted in Casey’s palm, jerked as Casey pressed inside, throbbing against his palm.

“Shoot.” Chuck squelched his eyes shut. He knew he was a tight fit, and he couldn’t deny that it did hurt some, but in this odd way, he welcomed the pain. Was it really pain? Discomfort maybe, he corrected in his blurry mind. But he wanted it with a hunger that he couldn’t explain, knowing it was temporary to get to the bliss Casey promised. “That’s – oh, man.”

Casey shifted his hips forward, pressing in and opening him inexorably, his cock taking the path his three thick fingers had greased up for him. “Easy enough, cowboy ...? Like that?”

Chuck made a sound that he told himself was not a whine, body arching against him, thighs parting as much as he could in such an awkward position. “Ngh – oh, crap.”

Well, that wasn’t the answer Casey was expecting. “Good?” he heard his lover ask. “Are you all right, kid?”

Chuck laughed a little, hearing a quick gasp mingling in with it. If that wasn’t enough of an answer to the slow push, he pressed up into him, felt the tight muscles loosening even as they worked around Casey’s girth. “Casey ... don’t ....”

Casey withdrew, drawing a quite whimper from Chuck. “Don’t?”

“Oh, no. Not – not that,” Chuck said, an embarrassing stutter exploding from his lips. “I meant don’t stop.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Casey lifted his hips and pulled back, muscling between his thighs, thumbs digging into the kid’s flesh right above the backside of his knee. That broad prick shoved at him, inside him further than he had, making him cry out.

“Shit ... shit yes.” Chuck ground out the words, body stretching. “That’s ....”

“Mine?” Casey asked with a sexy, low little laugh. He held Chuck’s hip with one hand, slapping himself a little harder against his ass. “That what you want?”

“Ye-yes.” The burn found Chuck nodding, groaning, spreading to let his outlaw boyfriend in and in. “Yours.”

“Yeah, all mine, that pretty little ass of yours. I would give all of my money for you.” Moving slow and sure, Casey began pushing in and out of him, really letting Chuck feel every inch of that cock deep inside him. “Why don’t you tell me what you want? More of that? Want me filling your tight little hole?”

Chuck nodded and tried to shove his hips upward. Pain was long gone, replaced by something else, almost as brutal. There was agony in his balls, drawn up so tight and wanting to spew everywhere, mark Casey on his chest and stomach.

“Want to hold it in? Squeeze me?” At the next down stroke, hard, Casey stayed there, dropping down almost on his face as he held him there. “Strong enough, aren’t you?”

Oh, God. Chuck wasn’t even certain what the hell he wanted, but his body seemed to know. He twisted his hands within the tight bandages and wrapped them around the headboard, bracing himself and meeting Casey’s strength with his own. His good leg wrapped the larger man’s sturdy waist, his hands dug into the wood behind him, and Chuck lifted his hips, letting Casey slam into him. “Do it.”

“Yeah? You do seem to know, pancake.” As Casey obeyed, just thrusting into him, he reached down, fingers wrapping around Chuck’s cock, pulling the stiff column of flesh in time with his own tight little thrusts.

“Casey, Casey ... God.” Chuck wet his lips and lifted his lashes, his eyes seeming so heavy and glazed, to look him in the eye. “Keep … mmm.”

Every pull on his cock made his muscles flutter around Casey, making the big man buck, growl. “Yeah? Your prick has hardened right back up for me again. You were made for this, kid. So easily caught up with me ....”

“Keep ... doing that ... more.”

“Don’t wanna tell you no,” Casey said. Good to his word, he worked him with a deliberate hand, pushed Chuck to his limits just by giving him his prick. Deep, rough sounds pushed from Chuck and he heard the same from Casey. Something near to a hymn, like a prayer without any real words, but Chuck heard his name and please.

Casey said please?

Rocking, humping, Casey adjusted the uninjured leg over his back and finally just slapped his ass, drew out, and came down again. And again. Not hard enough to hurt. Never hurt. But hard enough to feel the burn of it, to feel the thousand little stings.

“That what you want, kid? Giving it to you hard enough?” That heated skin spanked against his thighs, Casey riding him like he was a prize pony. “Shit, yeah, kid …. Like taking my cock?”

“Casey, I need –” to come, to scream.

“That’s it, kid. Just feel it. All of me. Right there for you....”

Chuck did. So much that it was an ache, deep down inside him. But it was a good need. He bit down on his lips and his head fell back on the pillow. His hips. God if he could lift them higher he would. He tried moving them faster, letting Casey pound his sore bottom, his cock pushing in over and over. “God, need that.”

“Shit, kid, what you’re doing to me ....” Casey ran a hand up his arm and lowered his head into the crook of Chuck’s neck. The kid suddenly felt like a bent up piece of barbed wire, tilting his ass up towards the ceiling and Casey on him, everywhere, thrusting home. “Giving me all of you.”

“Sh-show me,” Chuck said, wanting more. “Come – come on.”

Casey turned his head and bit down on the soft flesh under his ear, sucking hard to bring up his mark. “Jesus Christ. You are mine there, too. Not giving you up.”

“Never ....” It was awkward as hell like this, but Chuck managed to shift his hips under him, moved faster. Each thrust upward caused his muscles to ripple around Casey’s prick. “Oh, right there ....”

Casey slid one hand down, covering that lean muscled ass, his cock pushing in over and over as he took and gave. Squeezing his ass cheeks, he made the kid buck harder into him. “Christ, kid ... there you are,” he rumbled, only this side of abusing the permission the kid gave him with those tight little thrusts. “Yeah, like that?”

“Mmph - waited so long, Casey,” Chuck muttered between his teeth. In the back of his brain he wondered two things: would he be able to sit comfortably tomorrow, and how much would Casey tease the hell out of him for begging for the privilege of being unable to sit?

Hearing Casey’s deep, shuddering gasps, being filled with all of him to the depths of his soul, the answers became less important.

Casey’s hands began to move in rhythm, clutching a handful of hard flesh on his buttocks. Handprints. Leaving marks, Chuck thought hazily. Oh, God, there are going to be big, meaty handprints.

Whoa. Can’t let Ellie get overzealous with her hovering/doctoring and see that. There would be some explaining to do.

“Fuck, John ....” The words escaped in a puff of air. He could just about burst. Everything inside him was so tight and full and good.

“Telling me what to do, pumpkin? Because it sure did sound like an order.” Casey’s hand clamped down harder on his thigh, holding it to the kid’s chest. It somehow opened him even wider, the stiff pressure of Casey groin slapped against Chuck’s testicles, his cock pumping into him.

“Y-yes. Orders,” Chuck rasped. “God ....”

“That I can do, kid,” Casey said. Some time passed with Chuck moaning and squirming under him while Casey worked steadily, driving – seconds, minutes? – until he felt Casey deliberately change up the speed to see what Chuck would do. The world slowed, easy, crawling, still deep to his depths … then deeper still.

“Paying attention, puppy?”

“Casey, you have to – gnph.”

“Mm. I like those hungry little noises,” Casey said, lowering his head to the curve of Chuck’s neck. He licked the sweaty skin, burrowed his lips in the dark curls. “Now, this was worth the wait, wasn’t it, Bartowski?”

Chuck wasn’t going to wait any longer, either. His hips jerked and he yanked at the long bandages that held his spread arms up against the headboard. “Oh God ... this is ....” He didn’t know how long it had taken to get him this hot again, but all the images and sensations slammed back at him in straining unison with Casey’s cock, convincing him to mesh with the movement of Casey’s hand back on his dick again.

“Think I’m ready to have you come, now, pancake ....” Casey said hoarsely against the edge of his ear. “Yeah, want to ... come for me?”

“You ... first, you ... bastard.”

“Fuck, you can be naughty.” Casey leaned in, fitted his mouth over Chuck’s and made an approving growl deep in his chest. Apparently, that worked for Casey. Damn if he didn’t set just the right rhythm on Chuck’s cock while still keeping his hips pumping into him in that ceaseless, firm swim of a fuck, tongues tangling and teeth gently nipping.

“Grá ar fad agat,” he heard Casey say into his mouth, slipping into low, lilting Gaelic, the soft noise that licked like flames down the kid’s spine. His other hand moved up to curl loosely over one of Chuck’s bound hands, gripping the joining point to the headboard. Leverage, son of a gun did he get leverage. Holding him, his face pressed into the side of Chuck’s bare shoulder, he fucked him, letting him feel the deeper penetration. “I missed you, kid,” Casey said, barely whispered. “That’s it. Yeah, it all belongs to me. Not just that sweet ass I’m fucking - chomh te.”

 

Casey took his hand off the bandages, drew his palm down Chuck’s body, so hard, so needy, and that alone was perfect. That alone was enough. “Let go, J-John .... Don’t hold back ....”

“Jesus Mother -” Casey’s head snapped back and he groaned, his prick throbbing as he shot deep inside Chuck’s body. He hit that little spot over and over, making Chuck shake. The kid lost himself in it, babbling Casey’s name again and again as he soared, forgetting everything but the pleasure inside him.

“Your turn, kid.” Casey eased over him to watch, Chuck saw, and pulled at his cock, letting him have more sensation on top of the one already making him writhe. “Wanna see you come all over yourself while I keep fucking you ... yeah, like that.”

“Shit shit shit ... yes.” 

“There you are, rock that ass, keep fucking my cock. Tell me how much you missed me and you can come.” 

“God, Casey I did ... miss you,” the kid mumbled in a convulsive buck that pressed Casey’s cock painfully like a rod of steel into his flesh. “There. Give it there ....”

Chuck slammed his eyes shut and fisted his hands. It only took a moment, both of them grunting and moaning, Casey still thrusting steadily, more slowly yet deeply before he knew he was going to blow. It felt like something in him snapped, drawing taut in his belly as bliss and heat uncoiled, pouring out of him in a great rush.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Casey said. “Wiggling and humping like your first fuck, huh?”

“Oh - phng.” Chuck’s teeth sank into his lip, the sting and pressure enough to come, spunk spraying between them. It was a scalding of the nerves through every inch of his body, leaving him trembling and sinking like a leaf in a whirlpool. He felt every point of contact between their bodies, not just the clasp of Casey’s hand commanding his cock, but his lover’s hot cheek against his temple.

After a minute, Casey lifted his head and smiled down, moaned at the show, still inside him in a possession that burned like fire. His fingers trailed down Chuck’s shoulder, brushing over his bicep. “Yeah, so pretty when you come for me like that ....” 

“You ... um, may need to be gentle with me tomorrow,” Chuck mumbled, though it should have been obvious.

“Complaining already, huh?” Casey smirked and pulled out when he could, rewarding Chuck with tender kisses along his jaw as a distraction. The sweat dried on their skin, immediately chilling the kid, and Casey took a minute to wrap the blankets around them.

“No complaints,” Chuck said. “Just being ... sensible?”

“Problem is, kitten, get you naked and nothing sensible happens.” Nuzzling his throat, Casey held him safe in those huge hands before coasting his mouth upward. He kissed him languidly, deeply before pulling back with a sigh. “You’re ... addictive, kid.”

“And you are trouble,” Chuck said, smiling over at him. Gradually, his heart’s hammering became less thunderous between his ears, and the sound of their heavy panting slowly eased.

Never had he felt so safe.

-x-

Casey looked down at the kid and let the heel of his hand caress Chuck’s damp brow, the side of his cheek. When his hand reached up, he could feel the desire to keep touching, not let the intimacy ebb just yet. So he curled his fingers into Chuck’s hair more deeply in response to the kid’s slowing breaths, tangling his strong fingers through those thick waves. God, he could just eat him alive.

“Um, I can’t move,” Chuck said tilting his head up to look at him. To make his point, he wiggled his toes pointed at ceiling. “Getting some oxygen is a little tough, too, you know?”

“Aren’t we picky,” Casey teased, but he lifted enough for Chuck to ease his bent leg out and straighten it.

“You forgot my hands.” Chuck glanced up and over his head, wriggled his fingers. “You can untie the rope now. Oh, wait. Did I call it rope? I meant bandages.”

“Can it or I’ll leave you like that,” Casey told him. His belly pressed on Chuck’s spent cock as he brought his lips down to steal a kiss. It made Chuck notice that his eyes gleamed at the prospect of keeping him exactly where he was for a long while.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Chuck looked like he wasn’t sure he would mind, but after a minute of rubbing his arms all the way up and down, Casey untied the knots. His thighs shifted over him to put most of his weight off to the side of the mattress.

“There. Now you can pester me again.”

“Good, because I plan on it.” Chuck perhaps wasn’t certain if Casey would permit it, but with Casey lying next to him, propped up on one elbow and looking down, the kid brushed a few fingers gently over his boyfriend’s cheek. When Casey let him, the kid brought his other hand around Casey’s waist and nuzzled the hollow of his throat. “This is ... perfect.”

Casey agreed by snaking an arm around Chuck’s narrow hips, sliding his hand over a tender ass cheek. It was all he could do, to simply hold tight, to keep his young lover close now that he finally had him.

“It’s just us now, Casey,” Chuck said in a hushed tone against his neck. “I don’t know about you, but all I want to do is stay here.”

“Never waiting that long again ....” Casey said softly, and a scorching hand trailed over the lean muscles of his back, his shoulder, gently exploring. “Keeping you here.”

Chuck shifted and raised his chin. “You do know I meant metaphorically? Not as in here here. The bed?”

“Something wrong with my suggestion?” Casey asked, pressing his lips to the top of Chuck’s head.

“Mmm,” the kid answered sleepily. “I am having a hard time arguing that – besides the measly matter of needing food and water ... oh, and we still have the slight issue of –”

“Don’t say it.”

“- my sister.”

“I said don’t bring that up. At least until morning,” Casey grumbled.

“Did you just refer to my sister as an inanimate object?”

“Well, considering she tried to slap the shit out of me when I met her, I could come up with something else.”

“Miss?”

“Hell, no, she didn’t miss.”

Chuck laughed and rolled his eyes.

Casey smiled at the sound. Stroking the kid’s fine skin, his fingers felt rough in comparison. He could feel Chuck blinking at him in the dark, feel the kid’s warm exhalation on his arm as he relaxed. “This can all go to hell in a handbasket tomorrow when she pokes her nose in, but for now ... I want it to be ... like this.”

“What happens ... if I wake up, and it’s not real?”

Casey looked over to see those dark eyes shining up at him. His fingers slid across the swollen, hot spot on the side of Chuck’s neck where he had marked him. “Is that real?”

Chuck let out a tiny yelp at the touch, scooted closer. “Um, very real. Funny, like it’s down to my bones.”

“Good. I want you to feel all we do for a long time, pancake.” When Chuck made a face at him, Casey grinned, feeling it split his cheeks. “Mature. Why don’t you pull that tongue back out in a few minutes when I can make some better use of it, eh?”

Chuck’s brows went down, furrowed, and slid back up when he caught on. The tongue disappeared back in his mouth. “Incorrigible,” he muttered, settling his head in the crook of Casey’s shoulder. “You. Just lay there and try to be good until morning. Oh, and give me some more of the blanket.”

Casey grinned harder and pulled one side around the kid’s body. Since the movement shifted his arm around him, Casey decided to leave it there and pull him right up to his chest. “Night,” he said, and added under his breath, “Can’t wait to teach you the next lesson.”

Chuck lifted his head again to squint at him. “How many more can there be?”

Casey chortled at that, letting it reverberate against Chuck’s skin. “You’ll have to wait, muffin. But trust me when I say I have a few more tricks to show you.”

“Will I get any warning before said tricks?”

“Does the sound of my bare hand on your ass count?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, that’s your answer,” Casey said, weariness giving him that gravelly rasp, and he wrapped him tighter between his arms. “Go to sleep.”

Chuck’s reply was a questionable half-smile followed by a kiss, heated and heartfelt, and Lord help them both at the trouble that kid’s grin could cause.

When he pulled back, Chuck looked down at him and brushed a finger up and down Casey’s cheek, knowing it would pester him but doing it anyway. “Okay, but one more thing,” Chuck said.

“What’s that?” Casey’s voice went immediately into ‘this is more trouble mode.’

“You never did answer about the cat.” Chuck propped up on one elbow and with the other hand, began to trace enticing little circles over one of Casey’s hard pecs. “We are keeping him, right?”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Eight Where the Road Ends-x-


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Twenty-Nine

-x-

Why on earth would Casey plop something down on Chuck’s chest while he was trying to sleep? Geez, he had no idea, but given the way it pressed on him when he clawed his way out of slumber into wakefulness, his lover had apparently decided the sunshine against Chuck’s eyelids wasn’t enough to rouse him.

The man had no sympathy for worn-out boys who needed their rest.

The kid groaned and flapped a hand at the annoying object, wondering how long Casey had been awake and if he really could convince the larger man that the blankets were much too soft and warm to leave.

The bulky thing poked him at the end of his nose. Evidently, sleeping in was a no-go.

“Five more minutes.” Chuck pushed the blanket down from his chin and slid a hand lower, fully expecting to touch a muscled ribcage or hair or some other body part attached to his boyfriend. “Then you can … share your nefarious plans for the day with me.”

Of course, it was then that he got a fistful of … tuffs of … huh. Strange, he didn’t remember his boyfriend being quite this hairy.

Chuck, all of a sudden realizing what he had grabbed onto, smiled to himself without opening his eyes. “Nice tail you grew last night, Casey,” he said in a sleepy murmur. “And if I’m not mistaken, those are claws digging into my – hey, ow, watch it.”

Chuck’s eyes snapped open. The weight on his chest, the stray long-haired tabby cat Casey had found lurking last night, didn’t exactly listen. Instead, the animal continued its languid stretch while extending its claws into the blanket. All fine and good, except the cover was thin and so was the kid’s skin.

“Hey, I said ow!” Chuck blurted out in a laugh. “Wow, you sure know how to make yourself at home.” He gave the feline a little scratch between the ears. “Just so you know, this isn’t exactly the greeting I expected this morning.”

The cat looked less than enthused. That was about how Chuck felt with the other half of the bed barren.

As Chuck wondered when Casey had left, the cat dug its little fishhook claws into him again. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll let you down, but you have to promise no more digging. Oh, and hello to you, too.” When he dragged a hand over the soft fur, the stray cat arched its back into his palm, hungry for any attention. It was familiar in a way that made him smile at the skinny cat. “They left you here, didn’t they? Well, don’t worry. I know it doesn’t look like it, but take it from someone who knows firsthand. The big guy you met last night? Trust me, he has a soft heart for strays. So play your cards right, and you’ll have a full belly and a place to call home in no time.”

The striped cat responded by purring loudly as it climbed up under his chin and nudged him. When Chuck didn’t immediately scratch the animal under its neck, the skinny feline let out a pitiful meow and rubbed up against his bare chest.

“All right. I see what you’re doing,” he said, grinning and scratching its ears. “So I hate to tell you, but if you plan on sleeping here, you’ll need to change up your methods a little. We may not want you on top of us. What? Don’t look at me that way. I can’t help it that there may be times we need to be left alone, okay?”

Speaking of Casey, if he was anywhere nearby, as the heat of the blankets would indicate, he should probably be told to get back in here.

“Hello?” Chuck called out and listened, but he could only hear a clock ticking from somewhere in the house. He fell back on the pillow and raked a hand through his mess of curls. Sometime today, he’d have to find soap and water at least, and do something about his hair. Like that would work.

“Casey? Come back to bed,” Chuck said, closing his eyes and patting the other side. Since it was warm there, he scooted into the other half to drench himself in leftover body heat. When he brought a hand down under the covers, it confirmed he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or pants, he realized a second later. So this was his life now, he thought, snuggling under the blanket. He was in their new bed, stark naked, a little pleasantly achy from the previous evening’s endeavors, and he had a morning wood that usually embarrassed him because he couldn’t do too much about it.

It wasn’t the only reason to get Casey back in bed. He told himself it had absolutely everything to do with the way his boyfriend looks in the morning, rumpled and eyes hooded from sleep as he smiled at him. And it definitely had more to do with how loved he felt when he’s cuddled into him.

“Casey, I know you can hear me,” Chuck called, scrubbing a hand down his stubble. “Is that offer for a backrub still on the table? Because I, uh, well ….” The kid paused to stretch his back, and just the swim of thoughts from the sand firmed him up a bit more. “No need to bring coffee – if you’re in the kitchen. Casey?”

There was no way the gods would be so cruel. No way would the world – correction, the whole freaking universe - be so harsh as to let him have a night of frolicking with his ‘Oops, I returned from the dead’ boyfriend and then not be able to find him in the morning.

“If this is your idea of a joke, well, you win,” Chuck muttered, eyeing the doorway. “You really are going to make me come and get you. Hey, is that your little ploy to get me out of bed?”

Evidently the answer to that one was yes because just as Chuck asked, the cat rolled over and sat on his neck. Fur went into his mouth. “Haven’t I been tortured enough?” he asked, gently moving the cat. Mr. Buddy Two only gave him a bored look and began nibbling on the edge of the blanket. “Okay, enough. I’m getting up.”

Chuck peeled back the blankets and scratched the back of his neck. Clothes. That would be a problem. Sure, he would be spending a great deal of time over the next ... week, month ... year? not wearing much more than a smile and some water from the ocean, but he wasn’t about to waltz outside with the prominent evidence of his morning daydreams in full view.

“Okay, pants ... shirt ...,” Chuck mumbled, getting up and casting his eyes around the still unfamiliar room. The dresser was empty and a tall chest in the corner only had a pair of women’s pantaloons. Chuck blinked away the thought and kept looking. The floor painted a rather untidy and scandalous picture: he could see his undershorts and cotton pullover undershirt – his size – beyond the foot of the bed, looking like they had been tossed there in a hurry. Well, you got that right, he thought, feeling his cheeks get hot. There was a man’s grey suit coat folded on top of a highboy, but on his side of the bed, there lay his boots, a crumpled chambray shirt, and socks strewn across the braided rug and pine boards.

Perhaps not by accident, his own jeans were missing in action.

Great. Not too many choices were left on the floor. He would have to look a little worse for wear this morning, he told himself. Chuck started to reach for his wrinkled undershirt, but pulled up short at the sight of Casey’s white button down shirt draped over the rocking chair in the corner.

“Aha. Nice. Guess I can borrow this.” The kid didn’t waste the time to hold it up to see how it would fit; he knew it would be wide on the shoulders but it would drape down long enough to cover his morning greeting. Once he slid it on over his shoulders, the kid took a glimpse down at his barely-covered arousal and billowed out the shirt the best he could. “Yeah, like that’s going to help? Sheesh.”

One last time, he looked at himself in the mirror over the dresser, quickly smoothed down his hair, and then rolled his eyes at his legs sticking out like skinny toothpicks under the hem of the shirt.

“Here, kitty. Now, if you want me to parlay this into something more permanent, let me do the talking, okay?” Scooping up the cat in his arms, he petted her fur – briefly wondered if it was his fur - and wandered out of the room in search of his boyfriend.

“Hello?” Chuck ducked his head in the kitchen – empty – to the dining room – disheveled from the evening’s, er, activities and also empty. “I didn’t think you were going to make me hunt for you. Casey?” He cocked his head and waited. Nothing. “Boy, good going, Chuck. It’s not like he’s easy to lose, either.”

The living room on the other side of the stone fireplace was also suspiciously lacking one rather large boyfriend. But when he looked through the expanse of glass with a view over the dunes to the water, he spotted the object of his hunt.

“What are you up to?” Chuck asked himself. Because there was Casey, outside on the porch, leaning his elbows on the railing and staring out over the water.

He wanted to take a minute to spy on him, but just as he began to, Casey turned around, spotted him inside, and tipped his head in a beckoning motion. ‘Get out here.’

Well, the invitation to join him outside didn’t need to be repeated. Chuck walked to the doorway and stepped out onto the long deck, barely glancing at the blue-green surf beyond the sloping sand. The view in front of him was just too pretty to miss.

“Hey, brown eyes.” Casey dragged a hand through his hair and a smile broke out over his face. “You’re awake.”

Chuck looked from his face, wreathed by wet hair that still dripped on his white shirt, down his arms, all the way down his jean-clad thighs and bare feet. It took mammoth effort not to stare, but he hauled his gaze back up to his face and offered him a weak smile. “Hi.”

“Good morning.” Casey leaned his backside on the railing and folded his arms over his chest. “You missed sunrise. And the morning swim just now.”

“I did?” Chuck heard the croak in his throat and hastily cleared it. “I mean, yes, okay … but, ah, maybe I can talk you into one later? Um, I can be in charge of soap?” How was that for direct?

“Didn’t mean to wear you out,” Casey said, seeming to find that amusing. His eyes drifted down briefly. “And don’t even tell me what you’re holding.”

“What? Oh.” Chuck lowered his head to hint conspiratorially in the cat’s ear, “Try to look nonchalant. I’ve got this.”

Casey narrowed his eyes at both of them. “Whatever you do, Bartowski, do not give it a name. You give it a name, and there’s no way to get rid of it.”

“I don’t need to give him a name.”

“Good.”

“Because you already did.”

“Like hell I did.”

“And even though I heard you call him Scruffy last night -”

“Dammit.”

“-I decided to call him Buddy … in honor of our first cat. He kind of reminds me of him, don’t you think?”

“We did not have a cat,” Casey corrected, and his eyes darted down to check out the animal in the kid’s arms again. “Besides, he would need to pack on about seventeen pounds of fur before he reminded me of that first damn cat.”

“It wasn’t fur.”

Casey just gave him a look.

Chuck gave him a victorious smile as he stepped across the deck. “So you admit we did have a cat, and you just called Buddy Two a he.”

“So?”

“So, based upon the fact that you fed him last night, called him Scruffy -”

“I only meant the way he looks.”

“- and you must’ve checked his nether regions, I think it is fair to say we now have a cat.” As Casey opened his mouth to argue, Chuck leaned in to kiss the frown off his face. When he pulled back to see a stern look, he smiled sweetly at him. “Thanks – um, is there any more of that roast beef left over? He does feel really skinny.”

Casey squinted down at the cat, up to Chuck’s puppy dog look, and after careful deliberation, hopelessly scooped the feline out of his arms. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, long legs.”

The command came with a hearty slap to the bare ass cheek barely covered by Casey’s white dress shirt. “Not fair!” Chuck said, feigning indignation as he laughed and passed off the cat to him. “You stole my pants.”

“Get used to it,” he heard Casey mutter as he disappeared in the house.

Chuck grinned at his back and walked over to the railing to check out the view. The bright morning sunlight flickered off the rolling waves, flashing white gold against blue-green. “I think I can get used to this,” he said. But could Ellie get used to the thought of him staying here with Casey? The kid dreaded how that conversation would go, but after finally having Casey back in his life again, he had no intention of leaving.

He glanced to the south, the direction of Beaufort, and smoothed the back of the shirt when the breeze picked up. What had to be going through her head right now? She’d be worried, and though Casey had a note delivered last night to say he was safe, that wouldn’t give her a lick of comfort. Hell, it would make her more upset. He could picture it now. Ellie was stubborn and her plan was set. Stow him away at his aunt’s farm until this little infatuation blows over. Like being in love with John Casey would blow over.

“I like the view, brown eyes,” Casey said from behind him.

Chuck turned around to face him and saw that his suspicion was confirmed. His lover’s eyes were not focused on the water. More in the vicinity of his bare legs and the place where the hem of the shirt ended, making his lack of clothing just this side of too obscene for the public eye.

Good thing there were no pesky stragglers walking along the beach this morning.

“I still have to pinch myself that I’m – we’re – alone at this house. I mean, look at the ocean from up here.”

Casey took a few steps closer to the deck railing. “There’s going to be a hell of a hullabaloo tonight out there.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed. “It looks perfect. How can you tell?”

“I can tell in my bones,” Casey said. Stepping up next to him, his hands rubbed between Chuck’s shoulder blades, down over his ass, Casey squeezing firmly, dropping a kiss on his nape. “A storm is coming. Just like that night when I stood on Devil’s Head Ridge, looking for a safe haven. If it weren’t for the lightening, I would’ve never spotted your shack. Who knew what trouble I would find that night?”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me, you know that, right?

“Kind of like the cat, I presume.”

“Smart man,” Chuck said, bending forward to kiss a rough cheek. Casey laid one hand over the shirt at his waist, and the kid took the cue that it was an invitation to settle against his warm chest, feeling the heat of his body even through the cotton. “Yep, you really lucked out that night. The bullet from my buckshot rifle missed your head by a mile.”

“Heh.” Casey snorted, but had to acquiesce on being lucky. “Last thing I expected was to find an honest man in Kiowa.” He took a deep breath and rolled his hand down Chuck’s shirt, stopping just before running out of crisp cotton and finding the swell of buttocks. “One who settles his debts.”

“Debts?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t recall saying you could borrow my shirt, long legs,” Casey said, smiling at him in that way that made the amount of blood in his morning hard-on rise sharply. “You’re going to need to give that back soon enough.”

It took everything in Chuck’s willpower not to just scramble backwards in surprise when Casey reached out. Instead of trying to take the shirt off him, he took a handful of white cotton and lined the kid up a little closer to the railing. Chuck looked down at his hand, baffled by what Casey might do next. “Is soon a relative term, because actually, I can pretty much tell you it won’t be clean when you get it back.”

“Good, because I’d rather have what’s in my shirt, and I don’t care if that gets a little dirty.” Casey took a moment to gaze appreciatively all the way down the baggy white cotton to the obvious tenting of fabric. Looking past that, his boyfriend continued his leisurely perusal down the kid’s mile-long legs and back up to his startled face. “Or we could do a fair exchange.”

“F-fair?”

“Yeah, sure,” Casey said, that smartass smirk growing. “I think I see something I want. Something you’re doing a shitty job of trying to hide from me, muffin.”

“What?” Chuck felt himself turning beet red. Do not look down.

Casey’s hand landed awfully close to the vicinity of what was apparently up for barter. “First, let’s see if you taste as good as you look, eh?”

Before Chuck could try to save an ounce of dignity by swatting his hand away, Casey surprised him by cradling his jaw in one palm, using the grip to hold him steady. The kiss began gently, like a wavering question on his lips. Ready for me, brown eyes?

Chuck tensed next to him, confused and unsure where he was going with this, distracted by the smell of salt water on his skin and the shirt glued to his chest. Well, Chuck wasn’t about to back away from that warm mouth, questing tentatively. Nuh-uh. When Casey parted his lips and teased the kid’s bottom lip with just the tip of his tongue, Chuck did exactly as Casey intended and opened his mouth a bit more, giving him permission to slide right in.

Which he did.

Wow. Chuck was happy to discover that even his mule-headed boyfriend could take direction when the time called for it. The warm slide became a tangle of tongues, deeper and hungrier than where they started a minute ago. While he tried to reciprocate and push back into him and figure out where he should put his hands, his boyfriend – fresh from his dip in the water - was too tempting, and Chuck’s hands found plenty of dips and swells of muscles to explore.

So it surprised him when Casey eventually leaned back and wrinkled his nose. “You need to brush your teeth. And take a dip in the ocean.”

“Sorry,” Chuck mumbled, wiping his mouth. Even though his lower extremity twitched at the mere thought of adding Casey’s slippery skin and the rolling waves to the mix, he backed up politely and drank down half of the mug of coffee that was sitting on the railing. “Um, share and share alike, now, I guess.”

“You can have it,” Casey told him.

“Thanks.” Chuck drank down the rest and swished any last dredges, like that would help. “If you want to go for a swim, I suddenly feel the question ‘why can I not find my pants’ is a bit less relevant. And you might be, well, overdressed?”

“You had blood on your pants. Didn’t think you’d want them back. And then before you fell asleep, you told me your undershorts were a nuisance.”

“Really. I said that?”

“Mm.” Casey gave him another lewd version of his grin, his eyes raking over the kid’s exposed legs and hemline of the shirt one more time. “For the record, I don’t mind.”

And now, on top of wanting to drag him out to the water, Chuck was blushing again, dammit. “Sooo, are you up for another swim?” The kid tried not to sound too hopeful. After all, it was broad daylight.

“Soon enough, tiger, but that leads me to my next question: how much do you remember about last night?”

“Well, we had dinner at the table -”

“Dinner.” Casey grunted at the amount of detail left out.

“Well, we sat out in the sand for a while.” Chuck frowned at Casey when the larger man interrupted him with another grunt, this one of the more amused variety. “And then we went up to bed.”

“You’re missing one key point, brown eyes.”

“Oh. What was that?”

Casey paused, his hands moving down Chuck’s arms to circle his wrists. “Nothing much.”

Chuck squinted at him curiously. Even though he imagined it would only make his arousal punch a hole through cotton and his brain turn to dust, the kid wanted desperately to find out what exactly “nothing much” meant when Casey said it with that much of a wicked blue gleam in his eyes. All he could truthfully remember was sand, leather, a bandage/bondage situation, and more sand.

“Should I be worried that you seem to remember something I don’t?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I plan on reminding you,” Casey said, his strong fingers drawing more securely around the kid’s wrists, a hold which was meant to turn him around and face the water Chuck found out a second later. “There. Like that.”

As Chuck half-shuffled, half-stumbled up to the porch railing with his back to Casey, he shot his boyfriend a questioning look past his shoulder. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

“You can thank me even more in a minute.”

“Hm? Really, should I be alarmed?” What the hell was he getting at? And why did he have to look so damn hot when he’s still dripping wet?

“Nah. Come on. Put your hands on the railing and hang on,” Casey said, his tone changing to the deeper, more exacting tenor that Chuck often associated with … orders.

“And why am I doing this?” Chuck asked, but he did curl his fingers around the worn wooden railing that ran waist high on the porch. Once he settled in, he slanted his head around to crinkle his brows at Casey, really hoping that the wind wouldn’t kick up again; the shirt was already fluttering like a flag in the ocean breeze, and his bare bottom was about two inches away from being exposed.

“I’ll jog your memory in a minute – heh, don’t look at me like that, brown eyes.”

“Can you blame me? Oh, and by the way. My memory is one of my more outstanding features.”

“Sure it is. Just stand there.

“Fine.”

“And neither of us is going to get breakfast or anything done today if you keep looking at me with those puppy eyes and giving me ideas,” he told him, and Chuck’s brain went to a bad place.

“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Chuck mumbled.

“Heh.”

“Okay. Maybe a little. But this is a bit awkward.” Awkward, since as he predicted, the hem of the dress shirt caught the breeze and fluttered, giving Casey or anyone else nearby a view of exposed legs and, more embarrassing, the brief flash of his hard-on right under the edge of the ruffling shirt.

“If it’s any consolation,” Casey said, and he felt his boyfriend sidle that body right up behind him, “none of this is awkward to me.” Out of sight, a big hand started at his shoulder blade before sliding down the middle of Chuck’s spine. It didn’t stop drifting down, massaging here, testing a muscle there, until it rolled over the curve of a rounded buttock.

Then the fingers splayed while the fingertips dug in a little.

“Oh, hey. Um, what are you doing?” Chuck asked.

“Reminding you.”

“Can you be more specific?”

The hand on his ass answered first with a possessive clenching of fingers. “Sure,” Casey said, giving the handful of firm ass muscle a little shake. “Does that help?”

“Help?” As Chuck started to turn his head around to stare at Casey, he felt the rest of the question sucked back into his mouth. It coincided with Casey putting a thigh between the kid’s legs. A breath of surprise spilled from the kid, and his fingers automatically hung on harder. “What – what are you doing back there?”

“Spread your knees a little more, cupcake.” Casey kicked his knees out wider, forcing Chuck to bend down a little towards the railing.

Chuck shifted from foot to foot, recognizing Casey’s ‘fuck you now’ voice. It made his ears burn. “Hey, not that I’m not excited or anything – right, right, you can see – uh – but I’m just a little ... surprised?”

“You really don’t get it.” Casey got it, though, in the form of another skinny handful of flesh.

Chuck’s eyes bugged out a little. “Watch it!”

Behind him, his lover chuckled. “You should hold still. It’ll be easier that way.”

The kid cocked his head to the side, trying to get a read on that naughty smile. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “At any point during this conversation do we get to the part where you enlighten me?”

“Gonna live up to my promise,” Casey rumbled at his ear. “Are you gonna be a good boy for it?”

“I don’t know. I may have to charge extra for that,” Chuck joked, trying to ignore the sly voice because he was not going to let it make him nervous.

“I’d gladly pay for this, kid,” Casey said, running his knuckles down the slope of one ass cheek before giving him a proprietary squeeze. “Damn, that’s tight ....”

“Did you want to go for that swim?” Chuck licked his lips, which suddenly felt dry. If Casey should try to take him here, in the broad daylight ... though the nearest house was at least a quarter mile away down the dune covered beach ....

“Not yet. But I have a feeling you’re going to have a hard time not squirming.” Casey chuckled when the kid turned to give him a sour look. “Let’s get it over with ... or started, depending upon your point of view, eh, pancake?”

Chuck had a millisecond to be confused at such a contrary statement before the realization hit him. Actually, the realization came in the form of Casey’s flat palm.

Against his buttocks.

“Hey!” Chuck spluttered, his brain doing a barrel roll as he tried to grasp what had just happened. Holy crap. The hand that had been squeezing and fondling his ass cheek up until a second ago had just given him a decent swat. “What – what is that all about!?”

Of course, Casey had another type of answer. The slap of bare hand to sensitive flesh made a snapping sound like a harness, giving a little sting along the sensitive skin there.

“Are you insane – what!?” Chuck jumped, his eyes wide. Not that it hurt, but it was none too gentle, either.

“I told you last night.” As he spoke, Casey’s big hand caressed the flesh he had just slapped, bringing fire to that part of the kid’s behind that had nothing to do with pain. It was not an accident that a few fingers slipped down his crease, gently riding up and down the crack a few times. “Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Good thing I’m in the mood to explain it to you.” Casey waited a beat to add, “Remember? Sweetie.”

A thought popped into Chuck’s head. “I think I remember that you might just like some more coffee. Should I get some, swee – oh, crap!” He didn’t wait for a reply before he tried to bolt for the door.

He didn’t get very far. Casey took took hold of his arm and steered him back to the railing. “Easy, cowboy. That was only two. We have seven more to go.”

Chuck felt the muscles along his back go taut. “You were ...serious?!” Oh, God. His voice did that octave high thing again. “You really think you’re going to ... oh, no. No, no, no.”

“You can say it, kid.”

Chuck swung his head around because he didn’t want to waste the incredulous look on his face. “Sp-spank me?”

The moment he said it, the smirk on Casey’s face made him wonder exactly what he had gotten himself into.

Casey didn’t make him wait long.

“Yeah ... I can do that, kid.” His partner palmed his left cheek like he was testing the hindquarters of a racing stallion, tightening his fingers in a half-grasp, half-massaging motion. “Like it when you ask like that ....”

“Ow!”

“Don’t tell me that hurt.”

Chuck scowled as he thought about it. “Okay, fine. It didn’t. But I did not ask!”

“You said spank me, Bartowski. Heard it clear as day. Hell, even our cat heard it.”

“Did you just say our?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Okay, but that was not asking. Did you not hear the inflection at the end of my sentence? Like I just did there? Because, this might come was a surprise to you, but that usually indicates that the sentiment is a – ow! Hey! Now – now that -”

“A welcome distraction instead of finishing that thought.” Casey paused, drew his fingers lightly over what had to be a brand new pink handprint. “What are we up to now? Four?”

He didn’t wait to count. Chuck jumped just as Casey helped himself to another light smack. After the second one, the kid knew not to look down. God, he just couldn’t. His body could not be that big of a traitor, could it? Never in his life had he been more thankful for a long shirt that hung to his mid-thighs, though he would bet his last silver dollar Casey would still find a way to notice what this was doing to him. That morning wood had not diminished an iota, no matter how much he pleaded with it – no, ordered it – to stand down.

A lot of good that did. Those large protective hands, exploring, squeezing, knew exactly what they were doing. Every smack and rub against Chuck’s backside, coupled with a few stray fingers grazing his crack down to his balls, had his body rigid against the railing. He could not believe his cock sprang to life harder than it was ten minutes ago, but John Casey had managed to blow the hinges off every respectable plan he had.

“Four.” Chuck tilted his head, considering this logically where no logic could tread. “No, wait. It was three.”

“You’re pretty quick to subtract one more to the tally, kid,” Casey said, and Chuck refused to turn around and see the smile break out over his face at Chuck’s faux pas. He was pretty sure he was going to get smacked again, but Casey just leaned in, took hold of his jaw to turn his head, and kissed the pout off his lips. When he pulled back, he messed with Chuck’s hair. “Not much of a punishment when you like my hand on your tight little ass this much.”

Chuck went still and tense. Why didn’t he push away from the railing? Why did it feel as if his feet were buried here? “I never said that,” he told him. “It just ....”

“Feels good? Like you need it …?” The hand that settled at the small of his back felt heavy, warm through the shirt, the fingers stroking a bit. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Chuck answered. “I’m not scared.” Just burning up, but Casey had to be able to feel that.

“Yeah, you’re not, because you’re made for this.” His other hand slid down the back of his thigh, petting the slender muscles there. The touch moved, the hand gliding back up to cup his bottom. “It doesn’t hurt. It only makes you harder.”

Well, great. So he had noticed.

Chuck didn’t deny it, so he shifted his body, pushing back into that touch. The hungriest sound wanted to leave him as Casey’s fingers drifted up and down his crack, rubbing when they fell low enough to touch his balls. Oh, God. There.

“Yeah? You see? It feels good.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, it’s fine for you,” Chuck said, “but I’m the one being held here ... and I’m not really an expert at this. What you’re doing is new territory for me.”

“I can fix that, kid.” A sharp smack stung his right buttock, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to tingle. “Remember the night in the barn?” Casey asked, his other hand playing with a tangle of curls. “When I had to teach you a little lesson?”

“Yeah, you were not nice that night.” That made him wriggle, made the last of the worry leave him. Once his father had thrashed him, but this ....

Holy hell. This was nothing like that.

“Five, kid. Keep that fine thing out there steady.” Casey smacked him and then followed it with a tender caress, then clamped on to really feel him. “God, that pretty ass ...” he whispered, pressing into him from behind. “Gonna put my mark right there.”

The next two spanks made him want to move, to wiggle and rub himself against Casey’s thigh shamelessly, the jolt springing right down through his privates. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Casey .... Casey, I – hey.”

“You what, brown eyes? You want more, don’t you?” Two more smacks fell in sharp succession, pushing him this way and that. “Like when I need to dole out a little discipline, sweet cheeks?”

Chuck was self-conscious enough to turn red when Casey let out a low wolf whistle, squeezing one cheek and giving an affectionate smack. Oh, hell. Did he like it? Is that what he wished for? His shaft seemed to think so. “It feels ... oh, damn you,” he whispered, just as Casey shifted from palming him to using his fingers, exploring his crease deeper than he had so far. “That’s ... good. Right there ....”

“Seeing you wriggle like that, kid? Makes me really want to stripe that hot little ass with my palm.” Those big hands smoothed down his back, stroking, cradling him as he pushed back into the touch. “Maybe next time, kid.”

“I – I never said I would agree to this. Again,” he had to add in a mutter, but it was drowned out by a low, smoky chuckle.

“Then why are you hanging onto the railing? Why do you still have that beautiful little ass of yours bent over for me?”

“You were the one who told me to stand here – and, oh, shut up,” Chuck told him, blushing and smiling while Casey threaded his fingers through the curls at the back of his head and laughed.

“That deserves a reward.” Casey kissed the side of his neck, searching for and finding the little bruises he had left there from the night before. “Are you going to be bad for me again? Good boy?”

“After last night, I would think I would’ve earned man status. Just sayin’.”

“Always be my boy, kid. Get used to it.” Casey bent his head and kissed the back of Chuck’s neck; his short strands of hair brushed his bare skin. “You got your eight you earned, but now I might just have something else for you.” Casey’s hand seemed huge, covering every inch of his left cheek, the sting softened by the soft rub on his flesh. “Want that ass of yours .... Now, kid.”

Out here? “I don’t ... I think ....” Chuck closed his eyes. Lord God his body had other thoughts. At the harrowing touch, Chuck’s hind end pushed back into Casey’s hands, the kid rocking, sliding against him. His skin was flushing and warm, his hips rolling and thrusting like the hand was a lover itself working its way inside of him.

“Spread a little more for me,” Casey suggested, his fingers helping out by delving deeper into his crack. His knees were nudged further apart. “Yeah, like that.”

“Holy ... okay, then.” Chuck’s thighs parted while one hand snuck down on its own volition to give his cock just a little tug of relief. Yesss. Rationality was officially out the window. Besides, there was no one around to watch Casey take him from behind out in the open air. Right?

“Yeah, kid. See that? You’re now warm as anything.” Casey dropped his hand and reached for that ass, then around to the front, fingers tracing his shaft. “I can see my handprint, muffin. It makes me hungry.”

“Your? Oh.” All Chuck’s muscles clenched, went tight.

“There? Is that it, long legs?” One hand covered the back of the shirt; the fingers of the other spread to cover the curve of those buttocks. “One of these days, you’ll spurt all over yourself, just by the feel of my hand on your ass.”

“N-no ... I need more than ... just that.” It felt too good, the hold on his ass too snug to even think about moving. Head falling back against Casey’s jaw, Chuck whimpered for it, body and voice. He pushed back into him, and he could feel Casey’s hard-on against his crease, long and firm even through his jeans. Every push of that strong body burned his stinging behind, the denim of his pants rubbing. And he guided himself straight into it, not giving a damn.

A deep groan met his motions. Big hands cupped his bottom, pulling him closer. Then they cinched tighter to hold him. “Yeah, that’s it, kid. You earned it ....”

“Who –who - earned what exactly?” Chuck had to tease back at him, but it wasn’t the time to quibble, not with those fingers sliding a little deeper into his crevice, up and down a few times. “Forget I said anything,” he murmured, automatically adjusting his stance by shuffling his feet further apart and, okay, maybe a bit shamefully, bending down a bit lower over the railing.

“Yeah, that’s better, brown yes. This will keep you occupied for a time.” Casey popped a finger in his mouth, wet it, and prodded at his hole.

“Casey ....” Chuck clenched his jaw as the stimulation of the wet finger began to work him, making his body yield bit by bit with the knuckle-deep prods. “Shi - oh.”

“Keeping that ass tight?” Casey asked, prodding in, out, slow and easy. His other hand moved around to test his weight and girth, which seemed to inspire him to a rougher thrust. “Like that?”

Chuck sucked in a lungful of air and slammed his eyes shut, his senses swimming. “N-no ... yes ... shut up, please.”

“Thought so.” When Casey eased two fingers into him, his other palm now gripping his buttock, Chuck’s testicles drew up, his cock flexing under the billowing white shirt. “Yeah ... that’s better,” Casey whispered.

“Oh ... fuck ... Casey.” Chuck bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from really telling him what to do.

“Mmm. You’re making my dick rock hard, kid. I changed my mind about waiting to fuck you until your tender little ass gets a rest.” Casey’s fingers whispered down his back while the other hand delved in a bit deeper. “Like it there?”

“Gah ... yes. Do it ....” Well, that was end of any decorum under bright sunlight out in the open, the kid reckoned. Being wanton was now the last thing Chuck was worried about.

Until he heard what he thought had to be a footstep on the stairs that led up to the deck.

“This has to be it,” an adamant voice said loudly from the bottom of the stairs.

Chuck and Casey froze. Even Casey’s hands, one unbuttoning his fly while the other gently prodded a wet fingertip against a place that made Chuck want to do all sorts of things, stilled.

“Oh, hell,” Casey groaned for both of them. His face immediately hardened. “Don’t tell me -”

“Ellie, are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should go back to the house and just wait for Chuck to -”

“I’m not waiting any longer, Devon.”

Damn it! They’d been busted.

Chuck turned to Casey to hiss, “Now what do we do?!”

“Bartowski,” Casey hissed back, glaring towards the end of the porch. “For starters, turn around and pull the shirt down a little.”

“God, this is not happening.” Chuck jolted and hurriedly tried to hide himself. “What am I doing? No pants! How can I tuck my shirt in?”

“What kind of a man kidnaps another one,” Ellie was saying, “and sends a note home to his sister that he’ll bring him back when he’s done with him? Done with him?” There was a pause on the stairs. “A scoundrel with no morals, that’s who.”

Oh, crap crap crap! This wasn’t a cruel nightmare. Someone in heeled boots was climbing the steps.

“But how do you even know they’re here?” Devon’s voice, accompanied by another set of footsteps, rose from the staircase. “They may be … out for a ride, er, or a picnic –”

“Devon, I have eyes for God sakes!” An exasperated huff. “That is Mr. Casey’s horse under the lean-to, isn’t it?”

“Shit!” Chuck said and promptly felt his stomach bottom out. “She’s really coming up here! What should I do?”

Casey shrugged. “Hide, genius.”

“Where?” Chuck asked ruefully, attempting to pull his shirt down when a particularly strong gust tried to lift it. “Oh, and how about this: think faster!”

While Chuck dodged his eyes side to side, Casey assessed with the adeptness of a man accustomed to getting out of tight spots. The other man must’ve judged it was too far and noisy to get to the door, so he took Chuck by a handful of shirt at the shoulder, grabbed tight, and shoved him unceremoniously behind his body. Chuck, startled at being tossed around like a rag doll, only stumbled a little. “Stay there and don’t say a word,” Casey ordered. “Let me do the talking.”

“Are you kidding me? Behind you? Okay, if you think you have this handled, you definitely do not know Ellie to the loyal yet sometimes annoying depths that I do!” The kid looked around desperately and tried to make himself smaller behind the shelter of Casey’s bulk. “She’s going to see me!”

“Shh!”

“Man, listen,” they heard another voice say, “I hate to be the one to bring this up, but have the two of you thought that maybe they need privacy?”

“Morgan, too?” Chuck ducked a little lower. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this!”

“Ah, fuck. I hate your little friend,” Casey muttered out the side of his mouth. “Just thought you should know that.”

“Chuck? Are you here?” Ellie called. From the sound of her voice, she had made it to the top of the stairs and was testing the doorknob that led to the kitchen at the side of the house. “Sweetie? Can you open the door?”

“Ellie, really, we should go,” Devon advised. From the nervousness in his voice – and the fact that he was no dummy – he had to have some idea what was going on. Now, the chivalrous part of him was attempting to protect a Victorian lady like his roommate’s sister from any unseemly situations.

Oh, brother. Chuck had to roll his eyes at Devon’s lack of understanding when it came to the force of nature that was Eleanor Faye. She was nobody’s delicate flower.

“I’m not leaving,” he head Ellie say. “Knowing that man, he could have my brother stashed somewhere. My God. What if he can’t answer? What if he’s, I don’t know, you met the animal - tied up my brother to the bed or something?”

“Come on, I think you’re being a little melodramatic,” Devon said.

“Hear that?” Casey snorted and turned to give Chuck the side-eye. “She made it sound like you had a problem with it.”

Chuck reciprocated by kicking the back of his leg. “Shh! She’ll hear you!”

“Hey, did you hear something?” they heard Morgan ask. “I think it came from the back of the porch – the side that faces the water over there.”

Chuck buried his head in his hands. He was pretty sure he could picture Morgan pointing down the side of the porch that led to the wide deck in back.

“I will kill that little Moron,” Casey growled, so it confirmed he was picturing the same thing. And it was obvious from the way the tendons down Casey’s arms bulged that he planned on taking care of that detail when they rounded the corner.

“Uh-oh,” Chuck said. He balanced the risk of saving his best friend’s life – honestly, looking down, he could see Casey had made fists the size of Morgan’s head – and saving himself from utter humiliation.

There were times to be brave, and now was not one of those times. Besides, no way would Casey kill Morgan in front of Ellie and Devon.

Not that quickly, anyway.

Because in this version of hell, with each clacking step, only one thing mattered. He had to get the hell out of here before Ellie rounded that corner of the deck to reach the back porch.

So with adrenaline zinging through him, the kid attempted to launch himself at the doorway, arcing through the air, intending to find the deepest darkest closet in the house and stay there for a year or two. And find pants. Yes, those too.

He got one step away.

Maybe Casey saw the futility, or maybe it was just bad luck. Either way, his boyfriend side-stepped, saw Chuck start to slip, and tried to retake the back of his shirt.

Well, it didn’t quite work out that way. The forward motion was too much. A ripping sound rented the air, leaving his lover with only a nice handful of white cloth. Chuck landed on one foot, tripped forward, and went down on his hands and knees.

Ellie, Devon, and Morgan chose that moment to breeze to the back deck from around the corner. They stared.

Whatever his sister was getting ready to say to Devon was instantly cut off as all three gaped. The moment of awkwardness stretched before exploding around him, and it took another five seconds before he could breathe again.

Surprisingly, the kid was the first to move. “This isn’t what it looks like!” Chuck said, getting to his knees and holding out his hands until he realized putting his arms up raised the hem of the shirt.

“Kid, might wanna rethink that and put your hands down,” Casey said, being the helpful boyfriend he was.

“Oh crap.” Thanks, boyfriend. Getting his bare legs out from under him, Chuck scrambled to his feet. “Listen, Listen. Casey was ... teaching me how to – how to thread a fish hook! So that we could go fishing. I fell. There. That’s the whole story.”

“Oh Jesus, really puppy?” he could hear Casey grumble. “Get back here, will you?”

Before Chuck could turn around to give him the stink-eye for not coming up with anything better, he felt Casey take hold of his elbow and pretty much toss him behind his broad back like he was nothing more than a feather.

Chuck really hated it when Casey had to remind him how strong he was. “You can be kind of a bully, you know that?” he hissed at the back of Casey’s neck.

“Fishing,” Ellie repeated skeptically. “You expect me to believe that.” It wasn’t a question. More like a double dare.

“The … um, trout are biting today. Right, Casey?” Desperate, Chuck waved a hand behind his back towards the ocean. “And clumsy me, I was so excited, I slipped and took a knee.”

“And did you realize your pants are missing?” Ellie asked, attempting to peer past the formidable bulk that was Casey to glower at him. “And undershorts? A ripped white shirt isn’t exactly what you would wear on a fishing expedition. Not that kind, anyway.” The last bit was directed at Casey with a scowl.

“That’s – that’s what I was just telling him.”

“I suppose you slept in the same bed last night?” she asked.

“Um –”

“And no bundling board between the two of you? Don’t even try to tell me you slept with your clothes on!”

“Bundling board? Heh,” Casey muttered.

“I was just on my way to get them,” Chuck blurted, giving Casey a dirty look for not helping the cause. “The pants, I mean.”

“Bro, you do realize that trout are fresh water fish, and that’s a big body of salt water behind you.” Devon folded his arms over his riding jacket and lifted a brow. “Are you sure Casey didn’t mean –”

“Hammerhead?” Morgan filled in helpfully and then also raised a brow.

“How did you find us, anyway?” Casey asked Devon, ignoring Morgan for now, which Chuck figured was a good thing. It would keep him alive a few minutes longer.

“Oh, oh, let me!” Morgan raised his hand but quickly lowered it and stepped back when Casey made a sound deep in his chest. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my idea. Everyone knows that when a man who looks like you comes into a small town, he’s going to get attention. So, I just had to ask around this morning.”

“Ask?” Casey bit out.

“Well, um, sure.” Morgan hesitated only for a second. “I went to the mercantile, the hotel, and finally the bank. Seems a … large gentleman deposited a fair amount of cash and then made a withdrawal – to buy a house! This house! Man, where did you get all that bullion?! Hey, are you a pirate?”

Casey’s hands made fists again. “Who told you that? Not about the pirate thing, idiot, the money.”

“I – ah – well, the bank teller took a shine to me,” Morgan said, brushing his fingernails on his lapel proudly, “so I told her you were my … older brother. What’s the big deal? She said she even saw the likeness, dude. You know, from a weird angle ... if you ignore the slight height difference -”

“I don’t recall the bank teller being blind,” Casey said, and he made a move for him. Seeing that his best buddy was about to be thrown off the side of the porch – minus his head - Chuck’s hands flew to the back of Casey’s shirt and he hung on for all he was worth.

He was only dragged a few feet, but it actually worked, though there may have been more ripping of fabric involved. “Don’t you think we have bigger problems here, Casey?” Chuck asked after he had finally stopped skidding behind him like a dogsled. Then he hissed, “My sister is watching you! Please don’t kill Morgan!”

Casey turned his head and stared at him long and hard, weighing if it was worth having a lover’s spat over a dead friend. Finally, he jerked his shirt free and backed up in front of Chuck again. “We didn’t hear you coming,” his boyfriend sneered. “Otherwise, we would’ve had breakfast on the table.”

“Hey, that was all my idea, too! Um, not breakfast, but wow, that would be nice.” Morgan, seeing Casey zero in on him with a death glare, had enough sense to forget his rumbling belly and speed it up. “Okay, then. But I knew how to sneak in so you wouldn’t hear us! We had to come in from the north, since Beaufort is to the –”

“Bro,” Devon said, cutting him off before Casey changed his mind on the whole ripping the head off thing, “I think John gets the point.”

“Okay, I’ve seen enough.” Ellie stepped forward. One hand, neatly gloved in white, was outstretched towards her brother. “Chuck, I am going to ask you again. Where are your pants?”

“Uh, well, you see, um.” Chuck cleared his throat. Logically, he knew he had to come out from behind Casey at some point, but he certainly hoped his blue jeans would manifest themselves out of thin air before then.

He waited. After a couple more seconds, he huffed. No such luck.

“Well, sis, it’s like this,” Chuck began to babble. “My pants are – well – you see, it’s kind of funny – orrr maybe not,” he quickly corrected when her face became a storm cloud. “Okay, then, I think I know.” The kid darted a look down to avoid his sister’s stare. Cringing, he leaned into Casey and whispered, “Under the dining table?”

“Nu-uh,” Casey whispered back to him from the corner his mouth. “You put them back on to go outside and sit in the sand. Remember?”

Judging by Ellie’s subsequent gasp, it was safe to say she heard a good bit of that. Chuck watched as his sister simultaneous wrinkled her nose while her cheeks tinged pink. “What the ...,” she began to stammer, “When did you –”

“Ah, well, that’s my cue.” Chuck flashed an all-too-innocent smile that fooled no one and began to sidle towards the stairs that led to the beach below. He was careful not to turn his back to them, since it would be just his luck for the wind to kick up his shirt. God knows how much of his red ass would then greet them. “I’ll just, um, head down there –”

“Nuh-uh.” In front and to the left of him, Casey stepped to the side to block his route. Then he whispered again, “After we … sat on the blanket in the sand, we brought them inside. To the bedroom.”

If Casey noticed Ellie’s subtle hitch of breath and the way her shoulders went rigid, he brushed it off. In fact, if Chuck didn’t know better, he would swear Casey was enjoying this little game of ‘Bait The Protective Big Sister’ with his own game of ‘Yeah, sullied your kid brother. What are you gonna do about it?’

One of these days, if he was allowed to live, Chuck would explain to his boyfriend the game he was playing was more aptly titled ‘Bait The Bat Shit Crazy Sister Who Will Go All Desperado On Your Ass For Kidnapping Her Sweet Baby Brother.’

There was no winning that game, Casey.

“Everything’s fine, I promise, sis.”

“If everything was fine, Chuck, you would’ve woken up in your own bedroom. With clothes,” she emphasized. “Now, why don’t you go to the ... bedroom, or wherever Mr. Casey has misplaced your ... pants, and try to get decent.”

Chuck heaved a sigh and prudently slid out from behind the protective wall of his boyfriend. As he looked from one foe to the other, they reminded him of two Rottweilers in a ring. Their eyes never left each other, as if just daring the one to look away so that the other could go for the tender flesh of the venerable throat.

Oh, man. Not good.

“I’ll be right back.” Chuck shuffled sideways so that he wouldn’t have to turn around. He lucked out that the shirt was long enough to cover any business in front, but kept his wrists crossed in that area anyway.

“Why don’t you just go and do that, cupcake,” Casey suggested.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Cupcake? His name is Chuck.”

“Um, I should go now.” Chuck nodded hastily and shot a behave look at his boyfriend.

“Don’t be long,” Ellie said.

It seemed like a horrible idea to leave them alone like this. It was, even with Morgan and Devon within earshot. But oh, come on, the sensible part of Chuck, the one that was telling him to just let them be adults and have a civil discussion, screamed back at him. Sure, Ellie would be angry, Casey resentful and just plain pissed, but the both of them needed to just take a deep gulp of air and learn to get along, dammit.

“I’ll hurry, sis. In the meantime, Casey here can, ah, well - tell you about our new cat! Yes, we have a cat.”

Casey looked like he might protest, but he nodded once curtly. “That’s right. We have a cat at our house. Scruffy.”

“Buddy,” Chuck whispered, making a mental note to remind Casey of this conversation if they both lived to tell about it.

Casey gave him a side-eye, but ended up folding his arms over his chest with a grunt to gloat at Ellie. “Still hashing out the details, but luckily we’ll have plenty of time.”

“Humph.” Morbid curiosity had Ellie glancing around. “Well, I hope you and the cat will be very happy here.”

Uh-oh. The kid exchanged a look between both of them, started to say something, and then did the only thing he could do without getting in the middle. He wisely scrambled back into the house to find his damn blue jeans.

-x-

Just as the kid disappeared into their cottage, Casey moved around to face the woman. Taking only a second to skim over her plaid traveling dress and straw hat, he gave her a show of his displeasure by deliberately tucking his hands in his pockets and squaring his shoulders. Hell, he had dealt with livid, jealous boyfriends of conveniently reciprocal men before. A few of them even knew how to throw a punch. So whatever this dame had to say, he might as well get it out of the way so he could go back to other pursuits that were more ... compelling.

“I suppose you didn’t ride all the way out here to enjoy the view?” Casey asked. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Doing here?” Ellie returned the glare, considered the challenge. Then she strode up to him like a bull, nostrils flaring. “Must you be so obvious, you son of a bitch.”

Because Casey had never taken his eyes off of her, he saw rather than anticipated her next move. When Ellie’s hand flew up, he grabbed her wrist in midair and held it there between them. “You already got away with cold cocking me the first day I met you,” Casey told her. “Shame on me for not seeing that coming - but I’m not going to let it happen again.” The memory made him grimace.

“Let go of my hand, Mr. Casey,” Ellie replied between her teeth.

“As long as we understand each other, woman.” Casey flicked a glance past her to Devon, who was watching them with an eagle eye, and waited three harrowing seconds before he released her wrist. “Why don’t you tell me what an asshole I am without taking a swing?”

“The only understanding we have, Mr. Casey, is that if you don’t return my brother, I’ll bring the sheriff next time.”

“Return him?”

“You – you kidnapped him!”

Casey had to laugh. “You keep telling yourself that, sister, but we both know that he came here on his own – willingly.”

“You brainwashed him,” she spat out.

“So your brother is weak-minded, then, is that it?”

“Of, course not.” Her hazel eyes flashed at the insinuation, reminding Casey so much of another pair of intense eyes, the way they stormed when provoked. “We both know that he’s brilliant.”

“Then how would he let himself get brainwashed by a – what was the term? Common, lowlife outlaw, I believe was the way you put it.” The sarcasm wasn’t aiding his case, he figured, but somethings couldn’t be helped. “Right before you slapped me.”

“You can save your humor and be thankful I don’t have you thrown in jail,” Ellie said stubbornly. “When Chuck comes out, we’re leaving this – this place where you’ve taken him.” Her voice had gone sub-artic

Casey let that frost sit for a moment. Carefully, he stepped forward, looking over at the doorway before pinning her back with a hard stare. “His home.”

A dark look crossed Ellie’s face. “I refuse to believe that. This is not his home.”

“No, you won’t listen to me, but are you going to listen to him?”

“El,” Devon piped up, “maybe now is not the time to have this conversation. Why don’t we all go back into town? Grab lunch?”

“Are you accusing me of being thick-headed?” Ellie asked as if Devon hadn’t spoken. “Too stubborn for a woman? Perhaps I don’t know my place in modern society?”

It took everything not to tell her damn right, which Casey figured would be counterproductive and earn him the ‘let’s talk later’ frown from his young lover when he heard about it. “Bullshit,” Casey growled, putting aside his attempt at blue belly manners, “he’s told you more than once that he’s made a decision. Your brother stood in front of us last night and asked you to figure this out.” He should just leave it at that, but .... “Because both of us are going to be part of his life now.”

“Johnnie!” another voice out of nowhere called. Feminine and in distress and oh, fuck this is not happening. “Where the hell are you?! Fils de pute! The kid’s sister left the house this morning and she’s on the warpath! Get your pants on!”

Ellie, Casey and the two other men looked over just in time to see Sabine bursting up the stairs in her dusty riding trousers and long coat. “John? Get out of bed! Get ....” She pulled up short and stared in shock at Ellie. To her credit, she recovered just as quickly by casting her eyes around at the crew of unlikely minions gathered on the porch. “Ah. Bonjour.” The woman paused to clear her throat. “Beautiful morning at the beach, oui?”

“Hello,” Ellie said dryly.

Sabine twisted a fake smile on her face and glanced around before turning her focus on Casey. “Ou est le garcon?”

“Getting his pants on,” Ellie answered in perfect French, not breaking eye contact with Casey.

“Ooh. Merde.” Sabine straightened a little bit sheepishly and looked at Casey. “I came to warn you.”

Casey swept an ironic gaze over the crew that had assembled before looking at her. “Mind telling me why the hell it took so long?”

“They had all the horses.” Sabine shrugged. “I had to ... borrow one. What?” she asked when Ellie’s mouth fell open. “I said borrow. I do plan on returning it. And I’m here now.”

“Yeah, well, good timing, woman.” Casey growled.

Making a face at him, she slid her wide-brimmed hat from her head and used it to motion between them. “Pardonez-moi,” she said pointedly, looking from Casey to Ellie. Obviously, she saw the humor in this, given away by a tip of her head as she took a half-step back away from the fray. “Please. Continue. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time this morning.”

“A bit too late by the looks of it,” Ellie muttered. Pulling off her straw hat, she dragged a hand through her hair and looked away, collecting her thoughts, Casey saw. She had expected a confrontation with the angry, filthy outlaw, and Casey had decided it was the one thing he wasn’t going to give her. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she finally said under her breath.

Casey shrugged and watched her as Ellie surged around and began to pace. Gauging by the way she held her black velvet purse in a death grip, maybe wishing it was his neck, he figured it wasn’t a good time to ask if she’d go into town and pick up a few supplies for him and the kid, since they’d be spending some time out here. In private. “Get used to it,” he said.

She gave him a burning look. “This ... just isn’t right.”

“It’s the way things are going to be.”

For a long moment, silence fell between them as Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. When she turned to face him, her eyes studied Casey while she fiddled with a lock of hair. Casey knew that look on a woman, so he stuffed his thumbs in his jeans pockets and stood a little taller, trying to glare the next move out of her. It didn’t take long.

“I’m afraid that, regardless of my brother’s so-called decision,” she said, her voice loftier than the pissed-off kitten mode a minute ago, “it simply will not be possible for him to remain here ... unsupervised.”

“Unsupervised?” He bit his tongue rather than tell her he had that department covered, thank you very much, dammit.

“You heard me.”

“I’ve been patient so far, Miss, but I should remind you that you’re trespassing.”

“And so are you, Mr. Casey,” Ellie said. She straightened her shoulders. “On something far more delicate than a cottage out here on the sand.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“You’re treading on my family’s good name and reputation.”

“Good name?” Casey chuckled darkly before he could stop himself. He had to dig his fingernails into his palms rather than spill the beans on that little secret. She really was clueless about her father’s exploits, but the kid would never forgive him if Casey took it upon himself to enlighten her. “Honestly, sister, I think I can live with the risk of sullying that fine moniker of yours,” he said, unable to hold back on the sarcasm. “Because I’m not going anywhere, and your brother is staying for as long as he likes.”

Ellie tilted her head at him. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Uh-oh,” he heard Morgan and Devon say in unison.

Casey arched an eyebrow. “Why the hell not?”

“It should be obvious.” Ellie’s smile was pure, sarcastic charm. “But let me put it this way. If my brother was a young lady, my Uncle Daniel and Uncle William would have received a telegraph from me last night.”

Casey had no idea where she was going with this, so he shook his head. “I hope to tell them when they could pick you up at the train station in Boston. Alone.”

“Hardly.” Unfazed, Ellie set down her clutch and placed her hands on her hips. Her wide skirt swished as she sashayed in a few steps, purposely closing the distance between them. “They would be on a train at this moment, each toting a rifle under their arms. Coming for you, Mr. Casey.”

Casey shrugged. “So?”

“You must be accustomed to men with guns seeking you out.”

“Occupational hazard.” After Casey looked from Devon to Morgan for a clue and came up blank, he went back to watching her dissect him with her eyes. “Now if you’re about done here, I can point the way back into town –”

“I am most certainly not done,” Ellie announced abruptly. When she had his attention, her gaze traveled up and down him, sizing him up distastefully. “You’ve put my family in a very tenuous situation.”

“How do you figure?”

“How?” Ellie asked, waving a hand over him. “Maybe in your world, unattached people simply jump into bed with each other and go merrily on their way the next morning.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Casey said.

“Well, that’s not how it works in proper society,” Ellie replied, rising on her toes. “What I’m trying to tell you is that if Chuck was a woman, my uncles would take you by the collar, drag you to the preacher, and have the two of you married by the end of the day today!”

“Hang on, sister.” Casey squinted at her. “We’re talking about a ... shotgun wedding?”

“What did you think I was talking about? And we all know it’s not possible. Therefore, there’s only one answer. He’s coming with me.”

“Like hell he is.”

Ellie recoiled. “I can’t let Chuck stay here with you! Not while I know ... that the two of you are ... well, living as man and –” She bought a second by looking up at the sky for divine guidance that wasn’t coming. “You know what I’m trying to say!”

Over the past few days, Casey had shuffled the various scenarios through his mind. Slap to the face? Sure, she would try. Knife to the family jewels? Yep, the attempt did cross his mind.

But if he had thought about her reaction for the next ten years, the last thing he’d expect was for her to pull the common decency card out of the deck.

Goddamn women. Hell, even a besotted wizard couldn’t figure them out.

“This is about us living in sin?” Casey snorted at the irony. “Least you could do is recognize that your brother’s existence is a sin in the eye of your high and mighty society. Not to mention the highfaluting place where they pass around the collection plate, and then pray for the redemption of wicked souls.” After a moment, he grunted. “Maybe they shouldn’t have to look too far.”

“I understand the shortcomings of my upbringing,” Ellie answered without flinching. “I was raised to love my fellow man ... even though we both know it seems there’s a double standard when it comes to ... certain people. My brother being one of them. I loathe it. Honestly, I do.” She walked over the railing to stare out over the water, made a fist before turning around. When she looked at him, her eyes were wet, shining with emotion. “I loathe that people are taught to hate others merely for who they are, Mr. Casey. For who they choose to ... love.”

Casey swallowed hard, hating that the word had that effect on him. “We finally agree on something.”

“But I also refuse to leave my brother here without knowing he won’t be abandoned when something else suits your fancy.”

“So you’re still happy to imply that I’m going to betray your brother – despite everything he said.”

“Oh, I’m pretty much just coming out and saying it, Mr. Casey.”

“I saved his life. You heard that, didn’t you?”

Her laugh dripped with disdain. “And forgive me for not being thrilled to my toes, since I don’t know how he got into a dangerous position in the first place, yet I’m sure you had a big part in that.”

It was every bit your loving daddy, he wanted to to shoot back at her, but kept his mouth shut.

“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed his story of how you searched months for him – when you lost him while being hunted by your ex-boss?”

“I found him, sister,” Casey said. “Did you forget that?”

“Comforting.” Ellie’s chin firmed, reminding him of the same stubborn habit of his boyfriend. “But it doesn’t change the fact that nothing is keeping you here with him besides your word, and frankly, Mr. Casey, your vaunted word doesn’t mean all that much to me.”

“You mean to say this little show you’re putting on is because you question my commitment? Christ, woman. We both know the truth: it’s a commitment that by law I can’t make.” Casey smiled to remove the sting from his words.

“That’s right. You can’t. So nice that you’ve caught on.” Ellie gave one succinct nod, believing with that movement she shut the door on further debate. “Chuck will pack his bags and leave with me tonight. Our aunt has already agreed to take him in ... discreetly, until this little episode passes. Being out in the country will be good for him.”

“Listen, Your Highness –“ Casey said, and he leaned down to put his face close to hers, “If you think, just like that, you’re shoving Chuck on a train and leaving in the middle of the night –”

“Hey, what?” Chuck’s voice drew him out of his pronouncement before he could tell her which train she could hop on. “Um, everything okay here, guys?

They both swung around to see the kid moving in cautiously from the doorway. “Fine,” Ellie and Casey said before exchanging a scowl.

Chuck looked at one of them and then the other. “I can see its fine.” He cocked his head, a few dark curls flopping over his forehead which he pushed back with a sigh. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?”

“It’s not your concern, Chuck.” Ellie’s eyes darted down, undoubtedly to be sure he had managed to scrounge up some pants.

“Really? Because it sounded ... oh, hey ... Sabine. Hi there.” Chuck waved lamely. “What are you doing here?”

“Warning Johnnie about his visitor.”

Chuck dropped his wave. “Um, good timing.”

Sabine narrowed her eyes at him. Casey simply smirked.

“We were just saying our goodbyes,” Ellie told him, her voice stiff. “I was telling Mr. Casey about our trip back to the country, outside of Boston.”

“Who ... our?” Chuck gave Devon and Morgan a swift and bewildered look before he squinted at his sister and Casey. “Guys, I thought we had settled this. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Chuck, it’s not ... proper for you to stay. I’ve already explained this to Mr. Casey.”

“Explained what?”

“Well, you mighta noticed,” Casey said, nodding when Chuck gave him a boggled look, “we wouldn’t exactly be welcome in one of your fancy churches, it seems.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Chuck insisted. “I – I made my choice, Ellie. This is what I want. Him.”

Casey re-aimed his gaze to see Chuck staring at him steadily. When his eyes shone with unwavering trust, Casey felt the bold line between them like a lightning strike.

Then the kid swallowed and said softly, “I ... love him, El. I love John, and nothing’s going to change that.”

Casey blinked. Blinked again when he heard the quiet vehemence in the kid’s voice. For a minute, he thought either his senses had been incapacitated, or Ellie and the rest of their rag tag crew became statues. Because everything was suddenly so still, the ocean so tranquil, Casey was as unaware of their presence as any other inanimate objects around them. He wasn’t including his lover in that pool, however. He felt Chuck all around him and inside him, moving with his ability to inject a hot flood of feeling through him.

“Your sister seems to think two people need to stand up in church to be committed.” Closing his hands into tense fists at his sides again, he tried to keep his voice mild. “And she knows it’s not possible for us to do that.”

“Do they have to? Does it matter?” Morgan asked.

The little man had been quiet for so long that Casey had almost forgotten he was standing on the other side of the porch. It was the seriousness in his voice that pulled each of them away from their own reactions.

Morgan looked around at them soberly. When he saw he was now the center of attention, the little man took a moment to smooth a hand down his vest. “Well, think about it. If you two make a vow – the vow is to each other. It doesn’t have to be in front of an altar, does it? Or ... or in the reflection of a stained glass window. The windows are fine, dude, but they’re kinda blinding sometimes. Maybe they make people forget or – or not able to see things as they should. All the colors. I don’t know ... but ask yourselves this: what else do you need to prove yourself? It’s to one another, man. Am I right?”

And I love him. Casey’s world righted itself, giving him an oddly calm peace. He stepped forward until he and the kid were eye to eye, and he registered a swirl of startled brown pools.

“Morgan’s right,” Casey said, spooked that those words were coming from his own lips.

“Casey, what’s going on?” Chuck asked, searching his face with a baffled look before finally turning to his sister. “I’ve made my decision, so – Ellie, I know, I know, but -”

“Chuck, we have to go -” Ellie pressed.

“No one’s going anywhere,” Casey broke in quietly. “Not until I say something.”

It was the serious note in Casey’s voice that pulled Chuck away from his own comeback to Ellie’s demand. When he pressed his lips together and waited, Casey had to let out a steadying breath, taking in the pleasing sight of the tall, beautiful man in front of him. Never had the kid looked more certain of who he was and what he wanted. And he wanted John Casey.

What I want is you, kid, Casey thought, and he filled his lungs and let it out slow. “Chuck, you know by now I’m not a man who likes to speak about ... what’s inside.”

Chuck watched him, mesmerized by the honest admission, but followed up with a smile. “I have been clued into that, so yes.”

“So you should listen up the first time, since I’m only saying this once,” Casey assured him, glad to see Chuck was too mystified to notice the break in his voice. “I let you out of my sight twice, and I don’t plan on making that mistake again.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw Ellie put a hand over her mouth.

“So I want to say this out loud to you,” Casey continued, “in front of your sister, your friends -”

“Wait.” Chuck shook his head, slipped a hand on the front of Casey’s shirt and the sure grip said more than anything. “Casey, you don’t have to -”

Like hell I won’t. “No. Listen.” Casey placed a palm on Chuck’s cheek and steered his head up an inch. “Look at me, kid.”

Belatedly, Chuck yanked his gaze back up. He had been staring at his lips from the moment Casey had touched his cheek. “You officially have my attention,” Chuck said.

“Good. Because when they come back here,” Casey went on, tipping his head towards their audience, “five years, ten years, twenty - that twisted oak will still be out by the road, the ocean will still roll up on the beach ... and I’ll still be here with you.”

“But – we can’t .... You do know what Ellie is talking about, don’t you? I mean, there’s no way two people like us –”

“Whatever we want to call it. Commitment ... a pledge,” and Casey lowered his voice to a rough whisper, “Marriage ... we’ll make our vows to each other. Tonight, out on the beach.”

“What?” Chuck blinked at him. No one else breathed. Even the wind had stilled.

“Pancake,” Casey said, smiling into those bewildered eyes, “it’s a simple question and it requires a simple answer. I’m asking you one thing: will you be my ... partner from here on out?”

“Really? Casey?” Chuck looked from his overzealous sister to his best friend before turning back to his lover, and said basically the only thing that most likely came to mind: “Okay, I think I missed something when I went inside, because now I’m totally confused.”

-x-End Chapter Twenty-Nine Where the Road Ends-x-


	30. Chapter Thirty

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Thirty

-x-

Casey had seen enough to know the kid really was brilliant. He knew that. Hell, the evidence was right there in the penciled drawings he had caught a glimpse of in Chuck’s worn leather journals. Those designs had to be some of the damndest things ever born from an overactive imagination. Wooden birds with wings and engines came alive in that kid’s head. Men soaring through the air like hawks was a possibility just out of his grasp.

But son of a bitch.

It didn’t stop that boy from being by tarnation the densest log in the woodpile sometimes.

Casey pressed his lips together, momentarily feeling at a loss for words. How was he going to explain what he intended to do - if Chuck would let him? Without getting all pussified like Morgan. Damn, the kid was making it tough.

Casey wasn’t done yet, though. He had come this far. It was like a tidal wave that couldn’t be kept to the shore any longer. It needed to break free, right out of him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. Casey swept a glance over the unwanted audience and pointed his gaze at the kid. “I guess it has to be like this.”

“What has to?” Chuck asked.

Just say it, asshole. The way it needs to be said. Three words.

You know you do.

He bent his head a little lower, spoke softly in the kid’s ear. “What I’m saying,” and Casey, feeling those soft curls against his temple, had to close his eyes, “is that I love you,” he told him. He stopped to wet his throat, hating the scratchy sound that escaped. “I’ve tried to tell you before, but this time it will stick. As much as you’re mine, I’m just as much yours. Hell, maybe more, though until I saw you in the workshop a week ago for the first time in months, I was afraid to admit that to you. Or to myself. But I’m admitting it now.”

He heard Sabine say softly, “Oh, Johnnie,” but Casey pressed on, pulling back to lock his eyes to Chuck’s.

“I’ve faced the truth, pancake. You are who and what I want.”

“But ....” Chuck flapped a hand towards him and caught a bicep. His fingers dug in. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I saying it now, in front of them ... not because I have to, but because I want to get it through your mop-head that it’s been the truth for a while.” Casey’s eyes roamed up over the kid’s still-sleep tussled hair and wonderstruck brown eyes. “It was ... love that made me come back. It was that same damn feeling that made me look for you for all those months.”

“I thought you were dead.” Chuck wet his lips as he struggled with his own words. “And I really really didn’t want that to be the case. And wow, not my most romantic material,” he said and visibly cringed. “What – what I meant was - I was waiting here for you.”

“That was my last dying hope, kid,” Casey replied, looking to the side. He softened his voice for just Chuck to hear, because when a man was pulling his own guts out, he didn’t need to be reminded of what he was revealing. “But all of that is behind us. And now I’m saying that I want you ... to fall asleep in my arms at night. I want you to put your head on my chest ... let me feel your heart with my hand on yours. See your smile and know it’s for me.”

Chuck pulled back a little and gave him one of those smiles, from his shy heart straight like an arrow to Casey’s. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me now.”

“Good.” Casey stroked his head, fingers tangling in a few curls. “I finally realized that to get what I really wanted, I had to give up some things ... about myself – but you weren’t going to be one of them.”

Chuck’s smile broadened, and the rays of sunshine hitting the water had nothing on that. “Casey, I don’t want you to have to change.”

Casey suppressed rolling his eyes at how futile that was at this point. “I had to ...trust. I ... just hoped to hell Fate didn’t kick me in the balls for being an idiot. For falling ... like this. There was one other time, and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

“I’d love to hear about that sometime, by the way.”

“Shut it,” Casey said gruffly. “I’m not done.”

Chuck smiled. “Continue.”

“When I let it happen this time,” Casey said softly, “I realized it was never like this before.”

“Love,” Chuck repeated, his grin becoming bewildered.

A grim smile touched Casey’s mouth. “That was when I hatched the plan to make Liam believe I was dead and to come back and get you, to deal with what we had. But there was one thing I never told you, and I don’t want to keep it a secret or be a detached son of a bitch anymore.”

“Are you sure you can stop?” Chuck asked, chuckling to break up the seriousness. Nice try, but his eyes shone bright, and those dark irises had taken on a suspicious sheen of moisture halfway through Casey’s admission, the scalding proclaimation that it was.

That wasn’t reason enough to stop. Casey was too far gone in so many ways. It was time to just get every fucking bit of it out of him before it threatened to pull him under.

“You’re mine, Chuck. And the only man I want from here on out.”

Chuck gave a dazed laugh. “Hate to break the news, big guy, but I think you’ve had me for a while.”

“Yeah, but now I’m saying it right here with your sister and friends – no matter how annoying they are,” he said under his breath only for the kid to hear, “and whatever we need to do, wherever we need to be, we need to be together from here on out.”

Chuck entwined his fingers around Casey’s and gave a timid look over at the audience, pretending they weren’t trying to overhear every word. Not knowing what else to say, he used the hold to draw himself in closer until they stood toe to toe. “I knew almost from the beginning ... there was something there.” He tapped Casey’s chest, right about where it was confirmed an actual heart lurked. “Luckily, I was right.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Chuck smiled and ran his thumb over Casey’s knuckles. “I still don’t get what all of this is about. You said ... commitment a minute ago. Partnership. Isn’t that what we have?”

“Not quite what I’m getting at, brown eyes,” Casey said in a low voice. “First, I want you to take this. For good this time.”

The kid looked down at their hands and raised his gaze to find Casey holding the gold-cased, worn pocket watch in his other.

“I suppose you recognize it.”

Chuck blanched. “You said I had it in my hand ... when you went in the river after me.”

“Yes. It’s been in my family for years, and now it’s part of the promise to you – my new family.” Casey couldn’t help it; he smirked and rolled his eyes at Chuck’s baffled expression. “Try not to lose it this time.”

Chuck just shook his head numbly. “It wasn’t my fault. There was a small matter of my kidnapping? You do remember that, right?”

“You’re attracted to trouble, muffin,” Casey said, tightening the grip on the kid’s hand. “But this is the last time you’re getting snatched.”

“I hope so,” Ellie muttered.

“Last night doesn’t count,” Chuck told both of them without turning to look at her. The crooked grin made his eyes gleam with that light that could spin Casey’s brain to his groin in one blink. “The kidnapper who took me was very convincing. You might even say I went ... willingly.”

“Glad to hear it,” Casey replied. “Then you’re going to make this part easy on me.”

“What ... what part now?”

“What comes next.” Not looking away, he took Chuck’s other hand so that he was now holding both of his.

But instead of pulling him closer, he lowered himself to one knee.

“I want you to marry me, kid,” Casey said, peering up at him. Chuck’s attention was enough to raise the heat on his own skin, on every exposed raw part of him. It gave Casey the courage to keep going, to say what he had to get out. It had been lying in the dark depths, coiled and waiting, for too long. “I want you to join up with me … from here on out. If you’ll take me.”

“You – you were serious about that. A minute ago..? My God.”

“I know we can’t stand up in a church or get a license from the courthouse,” Casey went on, slipping the watch back into Chuck’s palm, “and frankly, I don’t give a shit about that. It’s just a piece of paper saying what I already know here.” Lifting their joined hands, Casey touched the left front of his shirt and then squeezed Chuck’s fingers. Stolen right out of his chest. Who knew this brown-eyed kid could be such a thief?

“John, how -”

“We can make it official between us ... and the others here. We’ll have a ceremony right here on the beach. Whenever you want. And I don’t care if there’s no law on the books, it will be the law between you and me, pancake, and whatever God or gods there are.”

“Jesus, Casey.” The kid’s breathing picked up and his face was flushed bright red. Somehow it made him more beautiful than Casey already knew he was.

“I want our lives to be bound together ... like one of those winding rivers you remember out West. The way it twists and chases the hollow of the canyons ... so that it’s impossible for us to ever leave each other without the earth moving.”

Chuck beamed down at him. “You’re quite eloquent for an outlaw.”

“Yeah, and I’m not done, so listen up,” Casey said. “Every morning when you wake up and see the ocean, I’ll be there. As long as that never-ending body of water is licking the shore, you’ll have me, kid. I want you to know that I’m making an oath. There’s no one else for me. Not now. Not ever.”

“I’ve never thought of anything like that. Never even considered it was possible.” Chuck fiddled with the pocket watch in his palm and gave a husky, confused chuckle. “Casey, I ....”

“Excuse me,” came a voice. Out of nowhere, the troll was suddenly standing next to Chuck. The little man planted a polite elbow in Chuck’s stomach and then cleared his throat. “Dude, when a guy looks at you like that, there’s only one thing that matters. Yes or no, man. But if you think about it too long –”

“Yes,” Chuck blurted, squeezing down on Casey’s hand. Catching Casey by surprise, he lowered himself down to his haunches until they were eye to eye. “I’ll marry you. Heck, tonight.” He hedged, grinning. “Well, if you don’t have any other plans.”

Casey narrowed his eyes at that all-too-innocent smile. They’d have fucking plans in about fifteen minutes from now all the way until tonight if the puppy there kept giving him that sweet, Polly-pure look.

Of course, that would mean getting rid of the riff-raff on the porch who were still watching every move. “I’ll check my calendar,” Casey said teasing him with a shrug, “but only because I like your smile.” Temptation made him rub a few knuckles over Chuck’s cheek, draw a thumb over his bottom lip. “So I have your answer, kid?”

“Hm.” Chuck tilted his head as he pretended to think about it. His boyish good looks had finally overtaken that last scrap of weariness from his ordeal. Not to say the kid’s lean muscles weren’t taut, but in the sexy way that made Casey want to shoo the visitors out of there and finish the job against the railing. “It’s still yes,” Chuck told him.

“Did you hear that?” Morgan piped up. He turned to the others and waved his hands in excitement. “It looks like we have a ... wedding to go to, man! Well, a different kind of wedding, but still, a wedding!”

“Congrats, Chuckster,” Devon said, stepping forward. “Never thought I’d see two bros get married, but I’ve seen you two together. I know it’s the right thing. For both of you.”

“Mon dieu,” Sabine said under her breath. “I can’t believe I lived to see the day. Johnnie got his heart filched ... by a skinny kid with crazy hair and brains to match.”

Chuck was still on his haunches holding tightly to Casey’s hand. He looked over his shoulder and squinted at her. “Um, wow. Thanks.” His brows scrunched. “I think.”

“It was a compliment.” Sabine sauntered over, her rifle on her back swaying in unison with her hips and skirt. When she had the kid in range, she reached out and ruffled his hair, making Chuck jolt. “Tres mignonne. I can see why he fell for you.” She lifted a brow at Casey and smirked. “So, so hard ….”

 

“Can it, wench,” Casey muttered without rancor. 

 

That left one person who had yet to open her mouth. The brittle silence from the other woman standing near the porch steps was not comforting in the least. The kid’s sister was probably horrified, all right. In front of her eyes, her Harvard-educated, high-born baby brother became betrothed to a man she would argue was raised by wolves and had taken grunting to an art form.

Not exactly the match made in (that tolerant little corner of) heaven the big sister dreamed of for the kid.

So when Casey heard her low-heeled, suede boots clicking on the floorboards behind him, he braced himself for the slap he had been waiting for since the moment he realized he had trespassers.

“Chuck, you’re coming with me,” Ellie said, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“But, sis, I – can’t.” Chuck was still on his haunches, his hand wrapped in tightly in Casey’s warm and sure grip, which meant he had to look up to meet her eyes. “You heard what he said – and you heard my answer. I said yes. I love him, Ellie.” As Casey watched his young partner, he saw Chuck’s jaw firm in that stubborn way he had, in a way Casey loved. “I said I want to get married – oh, wow – I can’t believe it. I’m sorry, El – but I can’t go anywhere with -”

“We don’t have time for this right now, Chuck. Let's go -”

“Ellie, hang on -”

“You heard me,” Ellie stressed.

“And I really need you to hear me,” Chuck said, and he took a deep breath. Out of her sight, Casey felt one thumb brushing the underside of his wrist, a surprisingly calming gesture coming from the kid for him. “I consider Casey my family now, the way I consider you my family. The way your future beau will become our family if you decide to get married.”

For some odd reason, Devon had to cough right then. Chuck looked over at him, puzzled by that, but Casey could see him decide to brush it off for now.

“Casey had no family,” Chuck continued to say and he slanted his head back down to look him straight in the eyes. “He has nothing but me. I want to give him all of me ... and all of my family, sis, because I can’t image a better sister to have.”

After a moment, she let out a sigh, and maybe it was the sunlight in his eyes, but Casey swore he saw a shimmer of wetness. Damn women and their waterworks. “I know that now, Chuck. I know you love him. You’ve always had a very loving heart.” She folded her arms and looked down at Casey, still on one knee and clasping the kid’s hand. “My brother is one of the best men I know.”

“I know that, too,” Casey replied, grasping for something better to say.

“So if he tells me that he loves you, it must mean there’s more to you than the arrogant smartass that has darkened Devon’s door.”

Casey squinted up at her to see just the beginnings of a faint smile. “I doubt that’s true,” he said.

“Um, sounds like a ringing endorsement to me, Casey,” Chuck added, nudging him against the knee. “But if you know that, El, then why do I need to go with you?”

“Because it’s bad luck for him to see you before tonight.”

Chuck exchanged a confused glance with Casey. “What now?”

“Chuck, I’m saying yes, too,” Ellie said abruptly. At Chuck’s stunned expression, she simply lifted a hand to stop the inevitable babbling. “Not that I think it matters because I can see it now. There’s no separating two people who are meant to be together. And I can see you are crazy in love with each other. I’m not going to stand in the way of your choice, Chuck.”

“But – what did you mean about that bad luck thing?” he asked.

“Mr. Casey is right,” Ellie said, tapping her cheek. “We’ll do it this evening.”

“What exactly?” Chuck inquired.

“It’s perfect.” Ellie moved past a small table and chair overlooking the sea. “It’ll be at sunset.”

“What’s perfect?” Chuck looked between Casey and Ellie. “Did I miss something again?”

“We’re having a wedding. Here.” She motioned with one of her hands, sweeping over the view of the dunes to the beach. “Down by the water.”

“We –we are?” Chuck rubbed his eyes.

Casey glanced over at his young lover. Pretty soon the kid was going to have to catch up, but to his defense, he had just scurried into the house to get pants. Now, he was getting married.

“Come on.” Ellie clapped him on the shoulder. “We have a million details to attend to before seven pm.”

Chuck blinked at her. “Such as ..?”

“Do you own a suit?”

“Um, no?”

“Well, that’s one.” Ellie lifted a brow at Casey. “When you ... kidnapped my brother last night, you were wearing a fine suit, Mr. Casey. Can I assume you will be properly attired and down at the beach by seven this evening?”

Casey rose to his feet. He didn’t let go of the kid’s hand, really he couldn’t, and Chuck climbed to his feet right next to him. “I’ll be there,” he said. “But if this is a trick to take him back home –”

“Do you really think I would drug my brother and shove him on a train?”

Chuck leaned into Casey and whispered in his ear, “I’ve already had that pleasure, remember? No thank you.”

Casey grunted without looking to the side at him. “You will bring him back,” he told the woman.

“My brother is depending upon it. You have my word.” She picked up her straw hat, placed it on her head and began to tie the silk ribbons under her chin. “Chuck, please go get your ... shoes and jacket and any other bits of missing clothing, and meet us at the buggy.”

“But you still haven’t answered this matter of bad luck? And I really think I deserve to know.”

“And Devon will help you down the stairs, okay? Go easy on the leg.”

Chuck frowned at the thought, ignoring Ellie’s awkward pat on the back as he tucked the shirt into his pants.

Something fluttered to the ground.

Ellie bent to grab it before he could. Holding it up, she paused and turned it over. “Chuck, what is it? It looks like some kind of strange ... symbol or something.”

Chuck stopped for a moment before lunging for it. “It’s nothing. Just ...give it to me.”

Ellie pulled it away at the last second. “Just what?” She held up the cracked, faded piece of parchment paper that he had been carrying around in his pocket, a dark cloud of uncertainty spreading on her face. “Strange, isn’t it?”

Casey looked from the paper to Chuck, not letting his face give away anything, though they both knew what the symbol was and the book it had been torn from at some point.

Chuck made another desperate attempt to take it, but she held on. “Um, well, it’s -”

“Just a drawing he scribbled for me last night at dinner,” Casey said. Very gently, he reached over and pried the crinkled paper from Ellie’s grip before the kid could stuff it away in his pocket. “I’ll take that.” He hesitated before throwing out a weak-ass explanation. “Keepsake, I guess.”

Ellie furrowed her brow and then shrugged. “Oh, okay.”

Where the hell did he get that? Either way, Casey smiled for her and crammed it into his pocket. It was impossible for him not to flick a look at the kid that told him very plainly they would talk about it later.

Chuck caught the pointed look Casey shot at him and frowned in return. Knowing he was busted, he took a step back and pushed a hand through his unruly hair, that jittery gesture Casey usually found endearing. “I guess I’ll go get my shoes and jacket,” he said, and ducked through the door before Casey could give him another scary eyeball.

Nice try, buttercup. We will be talking later.

As soon as the kid disappeared into the house, Ellie stepped right up to him. “Mr. Casey,” she said evenly, “may I have a word with you.” It wasn’t a question. All at once, she didn’t look like the fresh faced girl-woman preparing to zip off in a million directions to plan her brother’s wedding in the next eight hours. Instead, she looked at Casey as if he was a potential cadaver donation, a cold slab she would have no problem dissecting with a rusty scalpel if he so much as put a big toe out of line before the vows on the beach. “I expect you understand what is at stake here. My brother’s happiness. Something I take very seriously.”

“So do I,” Casey said, purposely looming over her. The woman could be a she-bitch when it came to her brother’s safety – something he had to admire - but he wasn’t about to be pushed around by a hot-headed piece of calico.

“Then I hope you understand the importance of living up to your commitment. Seven this evening, on the dot.” Ellie’s sharp eyes took on a frightening glimmer of a mother bear protecting her young. “Be here, or there are parts of you that you will need to say goodbye to when I find you. Do you understand me?”

Masculinity demanded Casey wince. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Ellie pulled her white gloves from her pocket, slid them on, and picked up her handbag. “I’m glad we finally see something eye to eye, Mr. Casey. I’ll make arrangements for staff from the Beaulieu Grande to arrive by four this afternoon.”

“Why the ... hello to them, I guess,” he finished in a cough, just as the hazel eyes narrowed at him. “Mind telling me what they’ll be doing here?”

“Setting up the food, the flowers, and the cake. That’s off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s more.” Putting her hands on the railing, she looked over the dunes at the waves rolling up on the beach. “This is a beautiful view. We’ll have our dinner up here on the porch.”

“Who?” Casey asked. He felt the approach of a three ring circus.

“Well, all of us, of course.” As she turned to assess the deck, the inventory began to roll from her lips. “We’ll need a table moved out here, linens, china, candles ... oh – chicken or roast beef?”

Before he could give his opinion of her plans, Chuck strolled back out onto the porch. One look at Casey’s expression, and he gave both of them a bolstering smile. “Um, Casey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still not sure what happened here, okay? But she’s really a forgiving person, I promise, John, once you get to know her, and if you simply answer the question to whatever she just asked, go along with whatever she’s planning, you’ll probably get along famously.”

Casey looked from the resolute brunette waiting for his reply to his nervously smiling partner nodding at him to ‘go on’. Finally, he shoved his hand in his pockets, and of all things, found the tin of slick he had been on the brink of busting out, now rolling between his fingers. “Roast beef is fine by me,” he replied.

Ellie smiled and smoothed the front of her skirt. “Devon, are you ready?”

“Uh, sure.” He darted a look around, flummoxed by what had just happened, but plastered on a smile anyway. “Back to town, it is ... I guess.”

“And you’re coming with me,” Sabine said. As she walked over to stand in front of Casey, he could see she was positively beaming. “Looks like we’re going to have to make some stops in town as well.”

“What the fu – eh, for?”

“Men. Eh.” Sabine took his arm and gave him a powerful pull. “I’ll explain on the way.”

Casey stayed planted where he was, forced to watch his boyfriend about to get hauled off by his sister. He briefly wondered if he could get away with a very public kiss before they were hastily separated by the two women. The females knew exactly what they were doing, extricating the kid before the big event, and he reckoned it was because females love a buildup. Excruciating as it was, Casey settled on hovering by the railing while Chuck lifted a hand and gave him a little wave and a bewildered smile as he was tugged along by his arm.

“I – I guess I’ll see you tonight?” Chuck asked.

“You can count on it, brown eyes.” Casey tipped his head politely and tacked on a lewd wink after Ellie turned her back. “Seems the women are going to trap me to keep me from bolting,” he said dryly.

The kid chuckled. It took Casey a second to realize he had the same idea, except Chuck was going to do something about it. Moving his arm to break the hold, he crossed the porch to wrap his arms around Casey’s waist. Casey felt him touch his back, an obvious protective and reassuring gesture that threw him off guard. “You love me. And I have witnesses,” he replied, and kissed him before Casey could tease him anymore. “You’re not going anywhere.”

-x-

Chuck had thought “we need to get you a new suit and some decent clothes” meant a couple outfits, like a cotton shirt and better pants than his blue jeans, some fresh underwear and maybe a new pair of boots since his probably still had his own blood on them from the night Liam hijacked him from the workshop, and they were soaked from crossing a shallow swamp to get away from the plantation. Oh, and they were missing, so that didn’t help much, either.

He underestimated the force of nature that was Dr. Eleanor Faye in a thriving downtown of millineries, shops, and tailors.

She had wasted no time wandering through store after store, shoving different vests and hats and various items of things he didn’t want at him. He didn’t ask how she knew if anything would even fit him. He just played catch up and tried to follow, arms loaded down and sales people trying to measure his body parts while he squirmed.

The hooks behind the door in Casey’s bedroom – our bedroom, he corrected himself – as well as the dresser and highboy weren’t enough to hold all of the different things Ellie had purchased for him, so he managed to stuff as many shirts in a few spare drawers as he could and dumped the rest on a rocking chair in the corner. There was no Ellie to contend with at the moment, as she had left him with the starchy new clothes, pointed at the black, woolen suit, and informed him to get it on and she would return after checking on Casey. That was not going to go well, the kid reckoned.

Now, he shoved a leg and then another through the new undershorts and took a deep breath. One more hour and he would commit to or marry or whatever the world wanted to call it, the man he loved. It made the shopping spree from hell worth it, since he had always hated shopping, and hated the cutaway morning coats or the strangulation of an Ascot tie that came along with that experience. But if it meant being with Casey for a lifetime with his sister’s approval, it was worth stuffing himself in scratchy slacks and stiff boots for a few hours.

Chuck looked at himself in the mirror up and down, and before Ellie could barge in, he turned to the side to see if there were any stray handprints that could be seen through the white cotton undershorts. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but no. As far as he could see, there was no tell-tale evidence of meaty paw prints to tarnish his pale backside. In the past hour, he had taken a bath in Casey’s tub, shaved off the dark stubble on his cheeks, and did his best to smooth his hair down. Not bad for a skinny bookworm, he figured, peering back at his reflection.

“Okay, where did she leave the shirt?” he said out loud, digging through the pile. “Oh. This one.” He grabbed it and gave it a flap in the air. It was so crisp and starched it could stand on its own.

Chuck stripped out of his soft chambray and held the dress shirt away from his body. Wearing only his undershorts now, he tossed his old shirt in the corner and dug around another pile for the wool pants.

Of course, that was when the door opened.

“Gah!” Chuck leaped back away and looked around for the first article of clothing that came to hand. “Half-naked here!”

Ellie barreled in anyway and slammed the door behind her. “Oh my God,” she said, pushing her hair back impatiently. “That man.”

“Geez, sis!” Grabbing the crisp, white shirt she had picked out earlier in the day, he held it up over his chest and upper legs. It was the best he could do to cover himself. “A little privacy, maybe?”

Ellie took in the shirt and her brother’s jump and rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Ellie, this is Casey’s – our bedroom.”

“I’d rather you not call it that until after seven tonight,” she said.

Chuck flushed deeper. His modesty protected by only his undershorts and the shirt he held in front of him, he craned his head to get a look at the button on the door knob. “Uh, sorry. But how did you get in here? I thought I had locked that.”

“Apparently not.” Ellie said. Chuck could actually see her pray for patience, which may have been amusing if he wasn’t fighting desperately to keep his propriety in front of his sister. “Chuck, I have seen you in nothing but your undershorts before. I was the one who helped strip you so that I could sew up your leg and take care of all of your contusions, remember?”

“No, thankfully, I was unconscious at the time. Now can you please go?”

“And after that I had to look you over to make sure you didn’t have any other injuries. It’s not a big deal.”

“You did that?”

“Excuse me? What were you expecting me to do?”

“Sew me up with your eyes closed?”

Ellie put her hands on her hips. “Can you please get dressed?”

“Not until you leave.”

“You’re testing me, aren’t you?”

“No, but I am practically naked here.”

“And still injured. Oh, don’t argue,” she said as soon as Chuck opened his mouth. “I have noticed the way you’re favoring your leg. You won’t be able to put the pants on without help.”

Chuck clung to the shirt like a life ring. “Um, I don’t suppose we can ask Casey to do the honors?”

“You can’t see each other. Besides,” and she lowered her voice to mutter, “the last thing that man will do is help get them on.”

Point for Ellie. “Listen, I -”

“Drop the shirt and get the pants.” She rolled her eyes a second time when he gave her a disbelieving look. “I want to check out the bruises along your ribcage and see if the sutures are still holding. I’m not here to embarrass you.”

Chuck couldn’t help but wonder if her keen doctor eyes would catch sight of any faint pink hue on his buttocks. It wouldn’t take the sheriff to investigate the size of the handprint and peg the culprit.

Ellie caught the look and folded her arms over her chest, one brow higher than the other. “The pants, Chuck. Sit down and we can get them on.”

“No.”

“Do not make me wrestle you down, sit on you, and make you cry uncle.”

“Those were the days, weren’t they, sis?” Chuck asked. “Gotta miss those times you were still big enough to crush me under your bottom until I couldn’t breathe.”

Ellie took in his sarcastic smile and reached over to the chair, coming back with the trousers. “Here they are. What do I have to do to let me check you over? Because I would hate to have to call Devon in here to hold you down.”

Chuck’s red hue deepened considerably. “Okay, here’s the compromise. I’ll sit down on the bed and then you can examine my leg – and then I get to put the pants on after you turn your back.”

“What if you fall?”

“You did hear the part about sitting?” It was going to sting a little, but not as much as the sting both Casey and he would feel if she saw the outline of a hand over his buttocks.

Ellie pursed her lips. “Will that make you feel better?”

“Infinitely.”

“Fine.”

Chuck waited. Ellie did not move. “Um,” he said after a moment. “I’m pretty sure this is where you turn around.”

Ellie cast her eyes to the ceiling and spun around. “There. Satisfied? Whatever I can do to make the groom happy.”

Chuck squinted at her back and quickly plopped on the bed. At least she had said groom. “I told you I’m fine,” he grumbled. With his bottom half only in undershorts, he adjusted them as much as he could. He didn’t put it past her to turn around before he was ready, but she was a woman of her word, for she didn’t turn around until he cleared his throat pointedly.

When she angled around to face him, she was at once the clinical and observant Dr. Ellie. Once she unwound the cloth, she only touched delicately around the wound and the pale skin of his upper thigh, asked him how much it hurt as she gently examined the stitches, and made him lower the shirt he was still holding to make sure the bruises and scrapes were healing.

“You’re doing well, little brother. You can put your shirt and trousers on now – if you remember not to try and stand up, all right?”

“That’s it?” Chuck asked as he slid his arms into the sleeves of the stiff, white shirt.

“I told you it’s not a big deal.” But her expression was anything but relaxed. In fact, she grimaced and shot a look towards the wall that separated the bedrooms. Presumably, Casey was getting ready on the other side of it with Sabine hovering just as much as Ellie.

“Something wrong sis?” he asked. “Did Casey ... say anything?”

Ellie huffed. The question seemed to have reminded her why she stomped into the room in the first place before being distracted with the need to spread some doctoring around. “Have you ever been trapped in a cave with an angry, pacing, Grizzly bear?”

Only if that time being caught in the rainstorm after picking strawberries counted. He smiled at the thought, even though at the time it was quite terrifying. It was during their more tumultuous ‘wanna die, hostage?’ stage of their relationship.

Not really a story Ellie would appreciate.

“Just once,” Chuck admitted, “but the bear and I ... came to an understanding.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Ellie asked, widening her eyes briefly at Chuck, probably wondering why he wasn’t more careful.

If only she knew. “But even angry bears can be soothed – with the right bait.” Luckily, his lover told him he was a sucker for long legs and brown eyes, something the kid figured out on his own pretty early and used to his advantage. Hey, he wasn’t an idiot.

His sister dropped it with a serious frown. “Well, I think I know that feeling now.”

“Should I be worried? Is it Casey? He’s, um, still here, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Ellie said, though she looked pale. “Nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“He’s growling. A lot. And pacing back and forth.”

“Oh.” Relieved, Chuck began pawing around for the wool socks. “Is that all?”

“No. He’s pulling on his shirt collar and fiddling with his stick pin.”

“Stick pin? Oh, God.” If Chuck wasn’t certain Casey loved him down to his toes – now most likely stuffed in incredibly uncomfortable, narrow leather shoes – that confirmed it beyond any doubt. “Ellie, I should let you know something. This?” Chuck pointed to the clothes, trying to get her to look over at his outrageously starchy jacket draped over the chair. “Now don’t take this the wrong way – but it really isn’t us.”

“You don’t like what I picked.” Her voice trailed off as she blinked at him. “I see.”

Guilt immediately flooded him. “Sorry, El. Hey, forget I said anything.” Chuck fumbled to cinch the Ascot tie and gave up by throwing his hand in the air. “You worked so hard to make this nice for us, and now I sound like I don’t appreciate -”

“You’re right.”

“The cake, the flowers, the – what now?”

“I said you’re right.” Ellie was pacing to the window and back, short choppy strides. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m sure we can swap out the napkins for sky blue instead of mauve.”

“Not that, Chuck.” Ellie pushed back her hair and went another lap back and forth. “I thought to get married, you and John should be dressed up in suits. The proper appearance, at least.”

“Did you just say you made a mistake?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, trying not to smile back at him. “And – excuse me – but to hell with appearances.” He almost missed the uncertain look she gave towards the bedroom on the other side of the wall. “That’s not you and it’s not John. I have my old perceptions hanging on, and I need to just let go, right?”

“Well, if you’re asking me -”

“Chuck, take off your pants.”

Chuck’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“Okay,” Ellie said before he could ask, “maybe I tried to force too many of my own expectations on today. Such as how two people should come together to get ... married.”

“What exactly does that have to do with my pants?”

“It’s means I changed my mind. Now, take off the suit, too.”

“The suit I just put on for you? Take it ... off?”

“You heard me. You shouldn’t be wearing it.”

“Please tell me there will be alternative clothing involved.”

“Blue jeans. The comfortable ones you wear when you’re in the workshop? The ones father never approved of? Do you have pair in here somewhere?”

“I’m sure I could find some,” he said, a small smile beginning to twist his lips. It was very possible his sister was beginning to understand him.

Ellie laughed. “Find them. Put away the stuffy jacket. And the tweed trousers.”

“Please say the shoes.”

“And the shoes.”

“Thank you, God,” Chuck said under his breath. “So Casey gets a reprieve too?”

“Yes. I’ll tell Sabine to have him dress in his blue jeans and a white shirt.” She looked him up and down, and winked. “You’ll be quite the handsome pair at sunset tonight.”

“And able to breathe,” Chuck mumbled, already tearing off the tie in one long drag. “What made you change your mind?”

“You, Chuck. And Casey,” she added after a pause. “You’re going to be on the beach tonight, and you probably want to feel the sand in your toes when you marry the man you love.”

-x-  
-x-

The two full minutes it took to climb down the stairs on his own was an interesting study in pain avoidance. But after convincing Ellie he could walk down the deck stairs to the beach by himself without calling Casey to carry him, he had no choice but to show her he could do it.

“There. Ta da,” Chuck deadpanned as he followed her a few steps in the sand. It took everything he had not to wince at the dull ache from the bullet hole when he bent his leg on the way down. “I told you I could do it on my own.”

Ellie studied him in that way she had, saying nothing. He could’ve asked her what was on her mind, but it was just as likely he didn’t want to know the answer. It would have something to do with either the likelihood of blood oozing out of the sutures, or a problem with the man her kid brother was on the brink of marrying.

“You’re doing better,” she said mildly, eyeing him one more time before looking around. The breeze off the dunes had kicked up, and her pale green dress fluttered, the skirt billowing but she looked like she could care less. “Wow. The water, the sky. Everything is perfect.”

“It is, El,” he agreed. The comfortable jeans and white shirt had only made it more so. Slipping his fingers into the jean’s front pocket, he pulled out the pocket watch. “It’s seven. I think I have somewhere to be right now.”

“Hah.” Ellie looped an arm through his as they walked. “Nervous?”

“Maybe just a little,” he said. Chuck avoided her eyes by looking over the dunes. An artist bigger than any of them had painted the sky tonight, pink and purple fading to the blue-green water. Behind them, the sun rested on the tops of the trees to the west, turning the seagrasses golden and orange; they ruffled and danced. The kid had overheard that Morgan and Sabine spent the afternoon preparing the place in the sand where they would exchange vows. Straight ahead, a path led over the swell of a dune down to the edge of the water, and torches, already lit with flames swirling in the wind, lined the sandy trail on either side.

“Where’s Casey?” Chuck asked.

“He’s waiting at the beach for you with the others.”

“Oh. He is?” Chuck gave her a confused look for approximately five seconds before the implication struck. The thought of Casey waiting there for him, looking perfect in his blue jeans and bare feet in the sand, was enough to keep him walking.

Almost.

First, however, Chuck needed to block out the reason he couldn’t see Casey all day, and why it was him making an entrance like the bride to be.

Bride to be? Sheesh. “I’m resilient, you know,” Chuck began to babble. “I survived on my own for almost a year.”

“At the farm? I heard Casey talk about it, too. You were brave. Stupid for leaving like that, but brave.”

“Hey, I had my reasons.” Reasons that he would take to his grave rather than reveal a word about the Cipher to his sister. “But ... I made it. That’s what matters, right?”

“I’d like to see it,” Ellie said, letting go of his hand.

“See what?”

“The farm. The place where you lived. Where you met. It sounds ... I don’t know, adventurous.”

Chuck stared at Ellie in her perfectly pristine dress and white gloves for a moment before he let out a good-natured laugh. “I would love to take you someday. I’m sure you could learn to ride bareback and shoot rabbits.”

Ellie slapped his shoulder playfully. “You’ve had your adventures. I suppose I deserve mine, too.”

“You do. Out west. You can take a trip with me and Casey.”

“I’d like that,” Ellie said, and she walked right up to him, taking hold of the collar of his shirt. She pretended to straighten it and grinned at him as he dutifully stood still for her to fuss over him. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me what’s bothering you,” she said.

Chuck tried to gently block her hand and pull his head away. “Me? Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. In a few minutes, you’re going to walk over that dune and do something that ... well, let’s face it, neither of us thought would ever happen.”

“Excuse me,” he said, “But I think I did have some hope that eventually I could trick someone into ... marrying me.”

Ellie laughed at the mock petulance. “Nice try, sweetie. Fess up.”

“I get to decide if something’s bothering me, sis. And I told you, it’s nothing.” Chuck tried to get around Ellie again by jumping towards the path that would lead them to the valley between two windswept, low dunes. Jumping was a bad idea. “Ouch!”

“Chuck, did that hurt? Let me look at you.”

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Chuck backed up a step, but shaking Ellie was impossible, both physically and on the subject of something wedged in the back of his mind. “If I tell you, will you back off from the doctoring and relax? Just a little?”

“Is it about getting hitched? Is it Casey?”

Chuck thought about it a split-second too long, which made Ellie pull up short to wait him out. “No! Of course not,” he said, speaking quickly to make up for his lapse. “Sis, I love Casey. And ... I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’m marrying my best friend.” He swallowed and lowered his voice. “He’s helped me become everything I could possibly become. Honestly, not to get, er, mushy, but ... I’ve been overly blessed with a beautiful man, haven’t I?

“Yet something small is bothering you. Something you don’t even want to say, because you’re pinching yourself that you’re even here tonight.”

“It’s ... ridiculous, really,” Chuck told her.

Ellie reached up again to smooth the front of his shirt. “Nothing is ridiculous. The truth of it is, he’s even antsier than you are. Did I tell you that?”

“He is? But Casey looks gorgeous, doesn’t he? God, I am going to stutter or pass out when I see him and make a total ass of myself.”

“You look gorgeous, Chuck. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, it’s not that – dammit.”

“Ah-ha. So you do admit something is bothering you.” She searched him with her eyes, registering his tight shoulders and fidgeting hands. “In about one minute from now, I will have to remind you of the game we used to play as kids.”

“Hold Chuck’s head over the horse trough until he tells you which boy wants to spark with you this week?”

“Not that one, baby brother.” Ellie snorted as she remembered the game. “Talk. Or I will toss you down and tickle you until you scream for mercy.”

Apparently, she was serious. As the kid shuffled backwards, she began to round on him like a hound dog. “Okay, okay.” Chuck shifted, and giving up, held up his hands. “It’s silly. Really. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. All I’m saying, and the point I’ve been trying to think through, is that I don’t understand -”

“My God, Chuck. They are waiting, you know.”

“Why I’m the person who is walking down the path to meet Casey at the beach?” It came out in a rush.

“Um, rather than who, Chuck?”

“Let’s try this again. He’s there, I’m here ....” Chuck held out a palm flat and put two fingers in a scrabbling motion over it. “Getting ready to walk down the ....”

Ellie looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“See? I told you it was dumb.” Chuck shrugged. “We should go.”

Ellie took hold of his hand to keep him from walking. “That wasn’t really an explanation.”

“I know,” Chuck said, avoiding looking at her. “But, here’s the thing, sis. I think we should’ve come down one at a time or drawn straws to see who gets to ....”

“Gets to what, sweetie?”

Be the man in his scenario! his brain filled in. Chuck knew it was petulant to cross his arms over his untucked white shirt and sulk about it, but there didn’t seem to be much stopping him. “Yeah, I don’t get it either. It’s important to me, I guess, but it shouldn’t be, right? We should walk now.”

“Chuck, I was serious about tickling you. We’re not going anywhere until you make some sense.”

Chuck looked around uncomfortably and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look, Ellie, don’t get this wrong, because it is great. Everything is great. And you did so, sooo great today with the – the dinner! – which looks delicious – and the beach, the cake –”

“You’re lying. This is about Casey.”

“No, no, it’s just that this feels ....” Crap. He needed to come up with something more practical and less pathetic. Am I less of a man? Did she have any idea how strange it felt to be a gawky kid who had been teased and pestered for years? He heard their titters, their murmurs. He was one of them. But now? How in the hell could he tell his sister he felt like the bride?

Just great. Having a mini, teensy-weensy tantrum about walking down the aisle to meet his groom was probably not going to help his case any.

Chuck closed his eyes for a moment. Get used to it. Next to his partner, Chuck would always be considered weaker and gentler and ... more excitable. He shouldn’t have a problem with it. After all, just look at the other man. If a Kodiak bear and a libidinous bull had a roll in the hay behind the barn, John Casey would be their offspring.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all,” Ellie said.

Chuck sighed. “Ellie, I’m an idiot,” he told her. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I guess I’m going to – ah – walk over that path ... over that dune ... and meet my hus –”

“You ready, kid?”

Both of them jolted when a deep voice came from between two dunes off the path. They hastily swung around to see Casey striding towards them among a patch of seagrass. The wisps of fronds swayed in the wind, dancing against his jean-clad thighs. The white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, caught the breeze and flapped, giving the kid a peep show of pale skin at his waist.

Chuck held his breath for a minute, watching all those perfect movements and muscles and wondering how he got so lucky. “Where did you come from? I thought you were at the beach ... waiting for me.”

“Well, I was. But I came back.” Casey sauntered in closer, his bare feet sinking deeply into the sand. From where Chuck stood, the sunlight from the west turned the sky a very faint blush of pink at the edges, but it turned his partner golden as it washed over him, the slanting rays casting his skin in a burnished glow. Highlighting flecks of red in his hair.

“You d-did?” Okay, now he was really stammering, but for a different reason all together.

“Yeah,” Casey replied, not stopping until he got right up to the kid. When Chuck could see nothing but blue eyes and a smile, he tucked his thumbs in his jean pockets and looked him straight in the eyes. “But I figured my partner would want to escort me down the path. Hell, we’re both grown men. Maybe this was something we should do together.” He stood close enough to smell soap and a woodsy aftershave, close enough to hunger, to taste. “Walk with me, kid?”

Chuck opened his mouth, thought about it, and burst out laughing just as Ellie moved in a step. “Sorry sis, there’s something I have to do.” Before she could ask, he reached out, closed his hand over one of Casey’s rigid biceps, and leaned in with the intention to kiss him and keep kissing him –

Until the kid was thwarted when a hand popped up out of nowhere, right before their lips could touch.

“Nuh-uh,” Ellie said, keeping her palm between their mouths. “Not until you say your vows.” She gave each a look of somewhat droll warning before turning to her kid brother. “Chuck, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Things are great,” he said, feeling a man-killer grin splitting his face. Every word that came out was the honest truth. “Never better.”

Casey’s gaze shifted down to take in that grin, and he returned it with a heated smile, emphasizing the relaxed curve of his mouth, the slope of his cheekbones. “Save it for later, brown eyes.” Bending in close, he placed a smooth hand on the kid’s jaw. “You know what that does to me.”

Chuck grinned harder, thought about trying to steal a kiss again, but finally scuffled backwards a step. “Thank you ...” he mouthed to him over Ellie’s head. For understanding me and loving me anyway. Saving me from my silly misgivings. The kid thought about it, hedged only for a second, and added in a hushed tone, “I love you.”

Casey’s hand drifted to his hair, his nape. The quiet admission changed the look in his eyes, giving a new intensity in his focus. Sure, strong, fingers caressed his neck then tucked a few loose curls behind one ear. If it made Casey half as electrified as Chuck felt now, basking in the sultry touch, he was in big trouble tonight. The kind of trouble he couldn’t wait to start. “I love you, too. Let’s go.”

Ellie tilted her head towards Chuck, relieved at seeing her brother’s genuine smile. “Hey, wait for me,” she said. Catching up to them, she surprised Chuck by looping her arm though his and nodded that Chuck should do the same to Casey on his other side. The three of them, linked together, looked over the path lined with torch flames, across the rippling seagrasses that would take them to the beach. “I have no idea what just happened here,” Ellie said, surging forward, “but can we please go get you two married now?”

-x-

On the downward slope of the dune, Chuck looked to the vast ocean and enjoyed a rare moment of calm. Approaching the makeshift altar of driftwood, he settled his bare feet into the sand to stand in the inner circle that someone had outlined with pole torches, their orange flames licking a purple sky. The fires erupted brighter as the wind kicked up, fed by the waft of oxygen. The bursts of flames tossed sparks to the early stars, like silent spiraling prayers, and immersed the small gathering in flickering orange light.

Chuck barely noticed the others standing there. He only caught the briefest glimpse of Devon with no jacket, his checkered shirt open at the collar and wearing of all things, blue jeans. Where he rustled them up, the kid had no clue, since he had only seen the genteel country doctor in trousers.

Next to him stood Sabine, tall and willowy in an actual skirt – not riding trousers - that cinched at her waist and a blouse that dipped low over her bosom.

Chuck had to give Morgan some credit. Lace-covered boobs that close to the little man’s shoulder usually caused stuttering and lack of concentration, but he kept his eyes on the two men and young lady as they walked into the circle to meet him.

When Ellie reached the center, she let go of Chuck’s arm and turned to him. “Chuck.” At a loss for words, she wrapped her arms around his midsection, almost hard enough to make him suck in a breath, and gave him a spine-cracking hug.

“Oof,” Chuck puffed out. As it was, he had to let go of Casey’s arm and take a step back to remain upright and to wrap his arms around her in return. She smelled like rosewater with the undercurrent of ocean air, a scent from his old home mingling with his new one. And that alone made heat buildup at the back of his eyes, so he squeezed them shut and held on. He had his family now. All of his family around him.

Eventually, his sister broke off the hug and looked up at him. Tears rolled unhindered down her cheeks and she laughed and brushed them away with the back of her knuckle. “This means I’m happy, not sad for you.”

“I was really hoping that was the case, sis,” Chuck said, grinning down at her through his own wetness on his eyes. “Otherwise, what’s about to happen might be a bit awkward for both of us.”

“The three of us.” At the sound of his lover’s familiar rumble, Chuck looked up and past Ellie’s head to focus on Casey. “Are you ready, brown eyes?” he asked.

Chuck shuffled, drew to a stop when he felt his bare feet brush Casey’s toes. “As hard as it is to think of one day of my life without you, I’ve never been more ready.”

Casey gave him his eyes, fully locked, and took his hands in his. The big hands were sweaty, something Chuck found amusing, the skin against his so warm it felt feverish. His boyfriend leaned into him, stopping just a breath away from his mouth, pressing into Chuck’s body. “Then let’s do this.”

“Ahem.” Morgan rocked on his toes to get their attention. “I have a few words to say before you can kiss the groom,” he said. “Hey, I worked all afternoon on my material. Are you guys going to let me get this out before you start pawing at each other?”

Casey swung around to narrow his eyes at the bearded man. “Sure. Just keep it short. Shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Short joke. All righty, then. Let’s get started, shall we?” Morgan cleared his throat, pulled a sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket and gave it a quick scan. After skimming, he stuffed it back and lifted his chin to exchange a look with both men. “It’s simple, what I have to say tonight,” he began solemnly. “Listen, I don’t know if there is a god, or if He is even watching us now, but there are things I know to be true. Things ... we should be thankful for, like my friend, who taught me what courage and confidence really is. I’ve come to know it, man, because I see you found it in yourself.”

Chuck could feel every pound of his heart against his throat; he suddenly felt full and substantial and heated with quiet humility. “I don’t know what to say ....”

“You’re not supposed to talk during this part,” Morgan said back to him, smiling. “I got this, dude.”

Chuck slipped one hand in Casey’s back pocket and curved a little into the muscled wall next to him. “Okay, then.”

Morgan tipped his head at him. “I know my buddy and his friend have seen things in this world that give them doubts. Maybe things that aren’t nice. But we – all of us - are here to give thanks for all the beauty in the world – like this place,” and he motioned, “but not just surroundings we can see, right? Not just the water or the sky up there. We’re giving thanks for all that binds us to one another now, guys, for all the experiences we shared which make us kin to each other. In a way,” he went on, smiling, “we’re all related now!”

Casey turned his head to breathe into the kid’s ear, “Except the Moron. We’re not part of that corned-cracker blood.”

“Shh,” Chuck warned without looking away from his the self-appointed ‘preacher.’ “Um, he means well.”

Morgan cocked his head at Casey, but let it go. “Okay, most of all, we give thanks for John and Chuck, who have come to this moment, right here in front of us, as two and will leave it as one. With one life ahead of them.”

“And one helluva sturdy bedframe,” Casey whispered in a breath that tickled Chuck’s temple.

Chuck elbowed him, fighting the quiver in his lower belly that just his lover’s voice could wrangle from him.

“May all that life brings them strengthen the bond we declare here today,” Morgan was announcing. “May the home they share here shed its peace on them and on all who seek its shelter with them.” He paused and waved a hand in the air happily. “Even Buddy, their new cat.

“Did you put him up to that?” Casey asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Shh,” Chuck replied in a hurry. “And yes.”

“This union was created by friendship and love. John and Chuck bring with them the dreams which drew them together. Maybe to fly ... maybe to sail, or to find peace and quiet in this new home of theirs. Nice, right? But let’s hope they keep the ability to view the world, their own selves, and each other with a sense of humor and -”

“Son of a bitch, all this talk, when I only want to ask one question.”

The others swung around to stare at Casey.

“What?” Chuck asked.

Casey straightened, steered Chuck around and faced him squarely. Holding him there, he breathed a deep breath and let it out. “The letter.”

“Letter?”

“The one you left that night at Sabine’s,” Casey replied, and he tugged something out of his pocket. “Here.”

Chuck immediately recognized it. The charred piece of parchment had been crammed in Casey’s pocket for months, he had told him, the one thing that kept him searching. “From the fire,” the kid said quietly.

“Yes, that’s right. You’ll remember some of the words were missing.” Casey turned it over in his hand and held it up for him. “All this time ... I wanted to know what you meant. What is said before it went in the flames.”

Chuck’s dark eyes coursed over the paper, his lashes sweeping lower, then looked up to his face. “I remember all of it,” he said smiling and hoping to hell Casey couldn’t see his eyes begin to glisten. “It was simple, just like Morgan guessed.”

“Then let’s hear it, kid.” Casey handed him the paper, giving Chuck a pause to re-read it, at least the words that weren’t burnt away.

Chuck looked around sheepishly at the others waiting on his every word. “Okay ... it went like this,” he replied and wet his throat. “’Maybe our pasts were meant to be so damn broken ... so that when we met we’d fit together so perfectly ... that nothing would ever be able to break us again.’”

Casey was studying him, and now his gaze touched Chuck’s hand, lower to his feet. “Jesus, kid,” he heard his partner say at last.

Chuck had nothing to add, glad that Casey didn’t point out the way his voice broke. He could only hand the scorched paper back to him.

“And I only have one simple thing to say to you.” Casey’s voice got throaty, and he pressed closer. “You’re every damn miracle that ever happened in my life. And I’m going to spend the rest of it with you.”

Chuck inhaled and settled his hands on Casey’s upper arms. “I think you’re supposed to say I do – and then I say it,” he chuckled. “But your way was much nicer. Oh, and I do. Is that it?”

“Well, theoretically – ah, what the heck,” Morgan said. “Okay, then. I pronounce you man and ... man. Hey, you can kiss now.”

As Chuck stared at him, wondering how he was the miracle, Casey rubbed a thumb over the kid’s jaw, his lips curving into that sexy smile. “One more thing,” Casey said. “I ... have something for you.”

Chuck’s mind was a whirl. “I think what you gave me so far was enough.”

Casey took a deep breath and used the hold to pull his body right up to him. “Well, I’ve always been better at showing,” he said. “Thank you for saying yes to this.”

“To what?”

Sabine stepped forward and reached into a pocket in the front of her skirt. Two gold bands caught the light from the flames; one was more slender for a skinnier finger, one wider and thicker. Circles unending. “A little something we bought in town today,” she explained slyly.

“Please, kid,” Casey murmured. “Your hand.”

Casey held out a band and watched a million expressions cross Chuck’s face as he fitted the gold ring on the kid’s finger and slid it home.

Reaching for the other, he gave it to Chuck, nodding that he should do the same. Chuck gave a shaky chuckle at everything welling in him. So ridiculous, so perfect. “I’m still nervous, can you believe that?”

“Thank you, Chuck,” Casey said at last. “For saying you’d take me.”

“And for you taking me.” Chuck’s gaze fastened on Casey’s hand, the gold ring, the way it shone, what it meant.

“Think I’m gonna do that now, kid,” Casey informed him, grinning as he zeroed in on his target. When Chuck felt his knees bump something, Casey wrapped his arm around his waist, pressing his legs up to his, the pressure of his body on every available inch of Chuck as he kissed him, kissed him, and kept kissing him. After a heavy, still moment or two, the sound of catcalls and clapping surrounded them, mingling with the steady crashing of the surf, rolling over the sand to tickle their bare feet...

The best part, Chuck felt, was that the voice leading the chant was Ellie’s.

After taking the kiss just this far from indecent, Casey caught Chuck’s jaw and pulled back. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he said and shot him a smile. “You’re mine, kid. Mine to protect and love.”

“Same goes, sweetie. You’re mine.” Sweetie? Oops. Chuck slid an arm around him, his brown eyes searching over Casey’s face. “And you better be ready. I take my duties very seriously.”

“Oh, you will, eh?” Casey teased. “I can think of a few right now.” He closed the gap to taste Chuck’s lips again, and Chuck’s fingers dug in at his waist in that strong urgent way he was beginning to understand. When Casey pulled him in, Chuck needed more of him.

He really was his now. Strength and honor. A steel core with a resilient heart that was all his now. His partner, his husband.

Like the wind knew it was time, it whipped around them and sent the flames in another burst of sparks. Chuck felt the heat spread and held his family to his chest now, knowing he’d never let go.

-x-End Chapter Thirty Where the Road Ends-x-


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Thirty-One

-x-

“Okay, it may not be every day we have excitement in Kiowa,” Morgan was saying as he chewed around a mouthful of roast beef, “but we do get our share … from time to time.”

“Really?” Ellie took a sip of wine and looked across the table at Chuck before turning her attention back to Morgan. “Would this excitement include stagecoach heists, or maybe shoot-outs on Main Street?” She gave Morgan a skeptical look. “Come on, I want to know the type of life my brother lived … while he was gone. Being a cowboy or whatever he did out there.”

“Cowboy? Me?” Chuck mustered up a smile and tried not to think about the mundane existence that had exploded into danger when a certain outlaw burst onto his farm. He hid his unease behind the glass of bourbon Casey had poured for him. Strong stuff, but it tasted like dark chocolate and velvet and he really should stop after one glass. Maybe two at the most. “Yeah, Morgan, tell Ellie about the exotic adventures we’ve had in downtown Kiowa.”

“Well.” Morgan straightened a little bit sheepishly and cast a glance around the table. “All right, dude, nothing quite like that. But,” and he held up a finger, “once, the sheriff let me and Chuck inside the jail cell behind his office, and we think we saw the place where Jack Slade carved his name under the wooden bench the night he spent there – before he was busted out by Mountain Charley!”

“It was either that, or angry termites,” Chuck suggested. “Or he must have a signature that looks like termites. Squiggly, you know?”

“It was him, man,” Morgan argued. “You could almost make out the name!”

“A woodpecker is not out of the question.”

“How would a woodpecker get in the jail cell?!” Morgan asked.

Chuck scrunched his forehead as he thought about it and then took another sip of the bourbon. “He could’ve slipped through the bars sideways. You know, like this.” The kid put his arms to his sides and scooted to the left in his chair, bumping Casey. “Like that?”

Casey, in the middle of taking a pull, got a little sloshed on his shirt. Giving Chuck a wary look, he set his glass down. “Better go easy on that, princess,” he said, murmuring against the messy curls at the kid’s temple. “It’s not water.”

Chuck turned his head and gave him a lop-sided smile. “Thank God. Because the fishes would all have to swim realllly slowly.”

Ellie studied him for a moment and arched a brow at Casey.

Casey shrugged and took Chuck’s glass from his hand.

“Hey, what are you –” Chuck sputtered, looking down at his empty hand for a second too long. “That’s mine.”

“Just take a break, sport,” Casey said. “I’ll give it back to you in a while.”

“It was his signature,” Morgan continued to point out. “No doubt, man.”

Casey’s arm nudged Chuck’s shoulder. As the kid angled around to give him a puzzled look, he felt Casey adjust the jacket they were sharing by tucking it more snuggly around his shoulder. The nighttime air had cooled considerably in the past few hours, but there didn’t seem to be a reason to have two coats since the men sat close enough together to share one. And luckily, his partner produced decent body heat.

Chuck settled into him and splayed a hand on Casey’s kneecap under the tabletop. As he looked around the table – a bit fuzzily for some reason – he wondered how he got so damn lucky to be surrounded by people he loved.

The wedding earlier in the evening left him with handprints of emotions in his chest rather than pictures in his mind, though he had plenty of those, too. Blue-green water, blue eyes, sunset to starry sky. After the ceremony, Casey and Devon hauled the long, pine table out onto the open deck, and the dinner prepared by the cooks at the Beaulieu Grande was brought out of the potbelly oven on large platters. Somehow, Ellie had worked her magic to coordinate the details. Roast beef, potatoes and vegetables were served on light blue china she had scrounged up from a hutch in the dining room. Morgan had carried up the torches from the beach, only dropping one of them and not even close to catching the house on fire (as he pointed out), and he tied them to the deck posts. The flames shed light and warmth, flicking an orange-gold light around the faces at the table in a heated afterglow.

Chuck didn’t know how long he would sit here tonight, doing nothing more than tracing random circles on Casey’s knee with the tips of his fingers, but he figured forever sounded good. Even if there was no chance of getting to bed until much later than his weary body needed, none of that mattered at all. He was ... genuinely happy.

Okay, a little overwhelmed with the past twenty-four hours, but he was trying not to overthink it much. The entire time he had known Casey, he had his sliver of doubts about love, wondering why Casey had picked him, wondering why he spent months looking for him, wondering how it was he found the energy and gutsiness to fight for him beyond anything else. To know the entire time, Casey really did love him – though, yes, he thought he knew it – somehow made it tangible and concrete, as if he now could finally touch it, wrap his hands around it, and never let it loose.

Casey nudged his arm again, pulling Chuck away from a story Morgan was telling Ellie about a nearby Arapaho burial ground. Rumored to be, anyway. Morgan had only managed to dig up a few chicken bones and an empty bottle of hooch, but he was hopeful. From what Chuck could tell, coffee can shooting wars were still about the extent of the excitement in Kiowa. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The next nudge was more insistent, and since the kid was nearly on Casey’s lap – he blamed the cold, though they both knew that wasn’t true – Chuck had to scoot over just a little in order to turn his head without bumping chins. His vision was filled with blue eyes.

“What is it?” Chuck fumbled a little as he set down his fork, and he couldn’t help but give him a dazed smile. His ‘husband’ was beautiful.

“You didn’t notice.” Casey brought his lips closer to his ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down Chuck’s neck. “On the table.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed as he looked down. A small, white envelope was next to his dessert plate of half-eaten pie. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s your wedding gift.”

Though Casey had tried to keep the conversation private, his deep rumble had a way of penetrating the side conversations. The word ‘gift’ had everyone at the table turning to look first at Chuck and then down at the envelope.

“A gift? Go ahead and open it, Chuck,” Ellie said, folding one arm over the front of the jacket Devon had loaned her. The doctor had pretty much ripped it off his body the moment he saw her rubbing her upper arms through her thin blouse. It engulfed her slender frame, but between that and the wine, she looked contented now. “Unless Casey wants to give it to you in private?”

“Um.” Chuck blushed at the feel of Casey’s hand, under the table, taking his in the direction of exactly what he would give him in private. “Maybe we should just wait –” the kid blurted, discreetly attempting to take his hand in a different route.

“It’s fine,” Casey told them. With that guiltless look on his face, he used his free hand – the one causing a lot less mischief – to push the envelope closer to Chuck’s. His fingers brushed the kid’s wrist, sending that electricity up his arm. “I don’t mind.”

Chuck picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get you anything.”

Casey put an arm along the back of Chuck’s chair and leaned into him. “We’ll talk about my gift a little later, brown eyes,” he barely breathed against Chuck’s cheek. His hand roamed over the kid’s knee, and fingertips dug in to give him a little shake. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Chuck didn’t dare look over at him. “Why d-don’t I just open this then,” he stammered.

“Good idea,” Casey said.

Chuck ripped it open carefully, felt around inside, and tugged out a simple slip of paper. As he flipped it over to read both sides, everyone except Casey leaned forward in their seats.

“Know what that is, kid?” Casey asked.

“Yes, of course,” Chuck replied, confused as to where this was going. More specifically, where he was going. It would be a remarkable irony and tragedy of generous proportions if Casey didn’t have the same thing he was now holding. “A train ticket? You bought me a ticket to go ... somewhere?”

“Yeah.”

Chuck blinked at him. He had to be hearing things. “I don’t get it.”

“Read it,” Casey said.

Chuck’s brow wrinkled as he surveyed him for a moment before he held the ticket up to try and read it in the dim light. The last wavering flames of the torches weren’t helping too much, or the bourbon, but he finally caught one word that only deepened the mystery. “Who – what?” He read it again. “This is a train ticket ... to Kiowa?”

Morgan scanned the less-than-enthused faces and jumped to his feet. “Dude, you’re coming to visit me?! We’re going to have some mean Battledore tournaments again! Oh, and backgammon and nine pins! Man, this is gonna be great!”

“Ah, Morgan, listen, I’m not so sure about ... the trip.”

Casey pulled away from his left side to get a better read on Chuck’s reaction. It probably wasn’t necessary, Chuck thought, since his bewilderment had to be pretty much out in the open. “You don’t look too happy. Thought you’d like it,” Casey said.

“I ... don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not that hard. You could just say thank you.”

Chuck lowered the ticket and squinted over at him. He could imagine the rattling Pullman car dragging him across the country like the first time, everything unknown and scary and lonesome. Not to mention the trip to St. Louis. Fun time, that was. “Maybe I was thinking of what happened the last time you bought me a train ticket,” Chuck whispered to Casey. “Remember that?”

“So?” Casey whispered back.

“So?” Chuck plastered on a fake smile and nodded at the audience. “Um, I need to borrow my boyfriend for a minute.”

“Husband,” Casey muttered.

“Oh, sorry.” Without waiting, Chuck placed a hand on Casey’s shoulder and pulled. “Be right back.”

Wow. That wasn’t going to work. Casey didn’t even budge. His partner simply squinted up at him with a ‘what the hell is it now?’ look.

Chuck returned that with a look of his own. “Casey, would you like to chat with me over in the corner?” The kid pointed to the other end of the porch and cast his eyes around the table. “This will take just one second, guys. Please continue ... you know, eating and stuff. Casey? Are you coming?”

The others turned to look at Casey with various expressions of confusion.

Casey picked up his glass of bourbon and huffed. “Guess I am,” he said, not sounding too thrilled about the prospect. Tossing his drink back, he got up and handed the coat to Chuck. “Lead the way.”

“Excuse us. Be right back,” Chuck said to their guests before pulling Casey to the far side of the porch. It was chillier there, away from the torches and proximity of the others, something they felt right away. Immediately, Casey took Chuck’s arm and hauled his lean body up to his, adjusted the coat over his shoulders.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Now, you gotta problem, kid?”

“Problem?” Chuck whispered urgently, realizing too late his voice was louder than he wanted. He peeked past Casey’s shoulder to confirm everyone had turned around. Not knowing what to do, he settled on a lame wave and shifted so that Casey’s back blocked him from the table. “Have you forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?”

”The last time you bought me a ticket, I woke up halfway to St. Louis with a willow bark hangover and one suitcase to my name!”

“Simmer down. And it wasn’t willow bark ... that time.”

“Comforting,” Chuck replied indignantly. “Then you stashed me in a house of ill-repute with a woman who tried to shoot me!”

“That was five months ago. And trust me, if she was trying, you’d be dead.”

“Again with the comforting words.”

“Hell, kid, you can see how much she likes you now.”

“You don’t get it.” Chuck scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked away. “It may not be a good idea.”

“Weren’t you just girl-talking over there with the Moron about all the good times? Telling him you’d be back to visit?”

“That was just small talk. You know, things people say, but they really have no intention of actually doing?”

Casey gave him a blank look.

“Okay, figures. Let’s try it this way. Out there? In society? People do this thing called being polite to make others feel better.”

Casey snorted.

“I know,” Chuck said. “I’ll try to explain it at some point when there’s less bourbon involved, but essentially, I wasn’t committing to anything.”

“Christ,” Casey muttered and rolled his eyes. “Look at me, kid.”

Before Chuck could tilt his head up, he felt Casey wrap an arm around him. One hand slid lower out of sight and ran over his ass. Smart move on his part, Chuck knew, because it became nearly impossible to be annoyed or frightened under that sure touch of his hand. The heated look in Casey’s eyes didn’t hurt his cause any, either, and the kid felt himself relaxing up against that big body.

Still, Kiowa? “Casey, you’re kind of insane, you know that?”

“I always have reasons for what I do.”

“Okay. Really scary reasons sometimes, but yes, that’s true.”

“Afraid of going back there?” Casey asked.

“Back to the place where I was almost killed more than once? You bet.” Chuck frowned. A minute ago, he felt unsure, but it amazed him how the press of his lover’s chest to his tightened every muscle in a good way, filling him with the need to stay close, be with him. He still wasn’t certain where this was going, but two hours ago he had pledged a lifetime of trust. “Explain.”

Casey brought up a hand and touched his jaw, his thumb brushing along one cheek, watching his eyes very carefully for a minute. “Sometimes things have to close before something else opens. All the way, not with any questions or ... wondering.”

“I get that, but –”

“We left in a hurry, pancake. I never let you say goodbye to that place, something I ... well, regret. And even though the kid I found there that day was a bit of a tangled mess, in another way, he had peace.” Casey looked down at their bare feet. “Guess ... in a way, I felt like I took part of that away, too.”

Chuck shook his head numbly, speechless. It was easy, so damn easy, when he watched his boyfriend storm through life without too many words or reactions, to think he had married a man made of rock sometimes. But then he would go and say something that reached into his soul, took hold of his heart, and showed the insight Chuck only saw like brilliant flashes of lightening. One flick and they were gone.

“I did have peace there ... that’s true- but I still don’t get it.”

“Bartowski, I’m not a man to feel regret,” Casey said, his mouth a firm line. “But that night I forced you out of your home with nothing but a bag of money and that ... thing, the book. It was a night where I learned what the deepest kind of remorse was. I told myself I would take you back there again – maybe only one more time.”

“To let me say ... goodbye to that life.”

“That’s right.”

“You’ll ... be there with me? We’re going together, right?”

“Is there any other way, kid?” Casey’s eyes drew down; his attention lingered on the slope of his chest, down his legs, before dragging up again. “Think I wanna let your sweet ass out of my sight?”

“So this is about closure?”

“Yeah.” Casey glanced off towards the ocean, possibly searching for the ghost they’d put behind them. “You need it.”

Chuck tapped him on the chest. “It’s your closure, too. Saying goodbye to that life out there. To what you had to do ... to keep me safe. Is that right?”

Casey gave Chuck his patented “You got enough lady feelings out of me for one night” look and left it at that.

“I think I’ve been persuaded,” Chuck said, fighting a grin. “Kiowa it is – but please, not in the winter.”

“Deal.”

Leaning into Casey’s body, Chuck kissed the tip of his nose and caught his partner’s fingers in his. The kid’s gaze drifted lower to their now linked hands. “I have you now. I’ll be all right wherever I go.”

“Let’s start by going back to the table.”

“Lead the way, husband.”

“Look who’s trainable,” Casey observed with a sly smile. The entwined hand gave a pull, and Chuck shuffled after him like the dutiful spouse he couldn’t quite believe he now was.

“Hey, ah, miss us?” Chuck asked as the men scooted back into their chairs.

“Any more of that bourbon?” Casey inquired.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll have some, too.” Chuck looked around his plate. Where did he put his glass?

“I was asking for me.” Casey held up his own empty glass. “You’re still on probation until your pupils aren’t the size of bullets, brown eyes. Besides, you can barely stop from tripping when you’re stone-cold sober.”

“I hope that’s a reference to my leg and not my innate abilities.”

Casey chuckled and poured himself another glass.

“Is everything okay?” Ellie asked, eyes dodging between them.

“Yes.” Under the table, Chuck squeezed his linked fingers around his lover’s strong hand. “We’re taking a trip.”

“That’s great, man!” Morgan pumped his fist in the air. “My shooting partner is coming home!”

“That’s not his home,” Casey grumbled, straightening him out before the shorter man could hop up on his chair. “Just a trip.” He lifted a shoulder, acting nonchalant about it. “I figured the kid might want to go back and get his whatchamacallits; drawings, tools, anything else he might’ve left behind.”

“Left behind?” Ellie gave Chuck a strange look.

Chuck blanched. He had not yet filled her in on even some of the details, and she seemed to be tucking away questions for later. “We were in a bit of a hurry to leave, you could say.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” she puzzled as she picked up her glass, “I think you should go back, Chuck. Even just to collect everything you left there.”

Chuck draped a napkin over his plate and squinted, thinking far back in his mind. “I wonder if it’s still there.”

“What?” Casey asked.

“The silver box with the etched -”

“- wings,” Ellie spoke quietly, finishing his words.

“Yes, that’s right. My first set of wings, she always told me.” Chuck rubbed a hand over his cheek. “I’m not surprised you remember, sis.”

At Devon’s questioning look, Ellie clarified simply, “It was a gift.”

“From our mom,” Chuck added softly, cleared his throat, and quickly took a sip of water. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Casey had turned to scrutinize him. The kid had never really mentioned his mother much, but that was only because she had been gone for so long. There were only vague, fluttering memories, sometimes brought on by the scent of lilacs or the lilting notes of a song he thought he had forgotten, where she would quietly fill his senses for a moment or two. “She was the one who told me that.”

“Where is it?” Ellie asked him.

“Well, uh, the last time I saw the box ....” How much should he say? Considering what Ellie already knew, the kid went on cautiously, “Liam and his crew busted in and smashed it when they were, ah -” Beating and kidnapping me.

“My God, Chuck.” Ellie eyes went wide, even without the elaboration.

“But – but that’s all in the past, sis,” Chuck rushed on, waving her off with a weak smile. “It was still there on the ground.”

“Not anymore. I put it back on your mantel,” Morgan said, looking around the table now that he was in the spotlight. “It seemed like the thing to do. Clean up a little. I wasn’t being nosy, I just ... wanted my friend to come back.” The little man suddenly looked uncomfortable with smothering such a happy occasion with a gloomy memory. “And I got my wish. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” they all repeated and took a long drink.

A companionable silence settled in for a minute. Chuck enjoyed it by curving one side of his back into the firm flesh under Casey’s shirt. “Comfortable, cupcake?” Casey rumbled against his curls. He didn’t seem to mind, however, and even wrapped a thick arm around his waist to hold him there.

“Mm. Very.”

“You’ll be back here, won’t you?” Ellie asked.

“Of course, El. This is my home now.” Chuck looked around the back porch and his hand under the table curled around Casey’s thigh. “Though, I am surprised you’re asking.”

“Why?”

“Well, we are about eight hundred miles from Boston.”

“Yes, I know.” Ellie chewed on her bottom lip. “But ... well, I should tell you something.”

“What is it?” The change in her demeanor startled him.

“I’m considering a move.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” she said more unequivocally. “Here in Beaufort, actually.”

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “Here? Wow, sis ... that’s great.”

“Eh?” Casey didn’t sound quite as enthused.

“Um, yes, well, you see, I’ve been thinking about a change.” Ellie picked up her wine glass and motioned around. “I like it here. And now that my baby brother has ... settled down, I wouldn’t mind being close by.”

Maybe it was an illusion, but Chuck swore he felt the thigh under his fingers go taut. “Sis ... I don’t know what to – yes, I do. Honestly, I would – we – would love to have you right here. Where you can drop in ... anytime.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie said, taking a glimpse at Casey.

Casey made another noise only for Chuck’s benefit.

“But,” Chuck said, narrowing his eyes at her, “I know you want to practice medicine, and Beaufort already has a doctor.”

“I wouldn’t think of it quite that way, bro,” Devon offered up swiftly, folding his napkin on his lap ... before refolding it again.

Chuck looked at him and after a moment’s study decided he was seeing something he rarely saw. The kid had only lived with Devon for four months, but in that time, he felt he could get a good read on the other man – and right now, he was both excited and nervous about something.

Interesting. Chuck decided to play along.

“Okay, then how should I see it?” he asked, leaning back a little.

“Well, uh,” Devon went on, and somehow he had caught an uncharacteristic need to stutter, “I was ... telling Ellie that Beaufort is a growing community, man. With the new Williamson Negro School being built outside of town, we’re going to need at least one more doctor.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And my hands are full, bro! The city is growing crazily, right? I could use a ... partner.”

“A partner?”

“And – and did I tell you that MacLellan’s is expanding their business?”

“Another store?”

“Well, er, no, man – but a – a new textile department,” Devon explained, nodding up and down. “Just think of all the new customers who will be moving into town!”

“Flocking here for discounts on calico, I’m sure,” Chuck deadpanned, looking between Ellie and Devon. “Or bobbins.”

Somehow Chuck caught the tiniest smile from Sabine, and when he glanced over at her, the woman winked at him. Obviously, she had been privy to more of the conversation than Ellie or Devon was letting on.

Well, that was unexpected, Chuck thought. Devon had taken a cotton to his sister. When he turned to Ellie, he had to fight a grin. “I think that’s a great idea ... to help out with Devon’s workload. And Devon is a great guy – doctor, I mean. I think your partnership would be beneficial ... to everyone involved.”

Ellie stared at him for a second or two, biting her lip again, but the kid picked up the trace of a smile and smiled back at her. Busted, big sister. Ellie rolled her eyes at him and kicked him under the table.

“Ow.” Chuck gave her a mock-sour look, chuckled, and picked up his water glass. If he teased her anymore, she would certainly find a way to make him pay for it later. “Sabine, what are your plans? Back to St. Louis?”

“I’m afraid so. But I will miss my favorite play toy, oui? Promise me, Casey, you’ll stop by on your way to Kiowa ... and bring him along.”

Chuck felt himself turning red. When did he become the plaything?

“I will,” Casey told her, turning his hand over to take hold of Chuck’s wrist under the table. “If I can fit him in the suitcase. Last time I checked, he does fold up pretty damn easily.”

“Hah.” Chuck tossed his napkin good-naturedly at Casey’s face.

Casey caught it and used the hold on his wrist to pull him in for a kiss. It wasn’t a deep one, but it sure promised trouble later when they were alone.

“Hey!” Morgan blurted out happily. “I could really use the help at the store when the new potbelly stoves come in. Man, they are beasts!” He tipped his head at Casey and smiled. “Where else can I get help the size of a train car, man! Listen, John, have you ever worked retail before?”

Casey glared over at him until Chuck squeezed his knee. “I’ll think about it,” he said reluctantly to Morgan.

“You know what? This is a perfect night,” Ellie said, pausing as she looked around the table and then off towards the beach. “There’s only one thing missing.”

“Some sizzling shrimp to go with the roast beef?” Morgan asked.

Ellie brought her arms closer around her for warmth and sighed. “Our father.”

Chuck felt the gulp of bourbon he was trying to sneak back-up in his throat. “You wish he were here?” His brain slapped him with the vision of the river carrying the Cipher like a waterlogged piece of bark. Not to mention the awful sight of his dad trying to keep his head above water as he swam after it. “Um, you do know that I just married a man today, right?” he asked, attempting levity, though his insides froze at the mention of his dad.

Casey’s big hand, splayed out on one of the kid’s knees, clenched ever so slightly.

“Of course, I wish things were better between you,” Ellie said in an effort to smooth things over. “It’s always been ... a bit strange. As if there were - I don’t know, this will sound crazy - secrets.”

“S-secrets? No, just some minor personality trait differences,” Chuck said, hoping to distract her by taking a large gulp of Casey’s bourbon. “Look, we’ve never had a traditional father-son relationship. There wasn’t anything I could do about father’s expectations of me.”

Because how could anyone live up to that? ‘You’re the Cipher, Charles. One in a billion. You can do so much more than waste your life with these foolish dreams.’

“I just couldn’t do it,” Chuck continued. “So I decided I needed to strike out on my own, sis. I bought a train ticket. That’s all. Nothing more. Not anything strange. Definitely not any secrets – ah.”

Another clench on his knee, this one a bit tighter, told him he might be overselling it.

“Are you okay, Chuck?” Ellie asked.

“You’re sweating a little there, Chuckster. Here, bro, borrow my handkerchief.” Devon whipped one out of his pocket since he was always prepared for anything. He eyed the amount of sweat that had popped up on Chuck’s brow. “Um, you can keep it, man.”

-x-

Misplacing his new husband was not the way to start a marriage, Casey reckoned. Shit. Would there ever be a time he wouldn’t jolt when the kid just disappeared, knowing the history behind the Cipher and the kid’s dad?

Either way, while Ellie and Devon cleared the dishes, and Morgan pathetically flirted with Sabine – good luck, idiot – Casey walked to the edge of the deck and peered down over the dunes. It wasn’t too hard to lose something that tall and pretty, and sure enough, he could make out a dark figure against the background of tan sand.

“Already trying to get away from me?” Casey asked, leaning on the rail.

He could hear the kid snort at that. In the dark, the silhouetted figure approached the water and paused. After a wait, the kid hunkered down to roll up his jeans and then waded out a few feet. “I just needed to cool down a little,” he finally said.

“Cool down?” The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since sunset. “Need company?”

Casey could see the kid’s head bob up. He hoped he was smiling, but it was too far and dark to tell. But Chuck raised a hand and motioned for him to come down and then went back to wading into the surf. “I’m sure my ... husband won’t mind if a handsome man keeps me company,” he heard him say. “But be careful. He can be the jealous type.”

Grunting with amused acknowledgment, Casey took the stairs down to the beach and crossed over the low dune, not stopping until he reached the edge of the water. “I’d just have to kick his ass.”

“He’s rather large and stubborn. You may have to wrestle him down, but I do happen to know his weak spots.”

Casey didn’t reply.

Wading over next to him, water sloshing at his ankles, Chuck slowed to a stop and tugged a little at the front of Casey’s white shirt. “You were right about one thing,” the kid said.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

He moved a shoulder and tipped his head towards the water. “There is going to be a storm tonight. See that? Lightning. It’s pretty cool over the water ... when it streaks around the clouds, huh?”

“Nothing beats the hullabaloo back up at the house,” Casey mumbled, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder. “Never heard so much damn chattering.”

“They’re excited,” Chuck said. “Can you blame them?

“Think they’re leaving soon?”

“Um – well ....” Chuck just shot that smile at him.

“Eh.” Casey heaved a sigh before he moved to pull the kid’s body up to his. Getting a feel, he jumped back almost immediately. “Jesus Christ – kid, you’re like ice!”

“I’m fine.”

“Hell, no, you’re not fine. Did you think you mighta mentioned you’re freezing to death out here?”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly freezing to death. Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit?”

“You’re like a fucking Chuck-shaped block of ice.” In case he was going to argue again or wade out further, Casey reached over and turned the kid to face him, rubbed his hands up and down the arms of Chuck’s cotton shirt. “You should’ve said something. Here. Take the jacket,” Casey said, already sliding out of the sturdy overcoat. “Put it on.”

“I’m fine. Really, you don’t have to – annnd, I guess I’m wearing your coat,” Chuck added in a mutter now that he had no choice. He looked down as Casey wrapped him up in it. “I said I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay. You’re limping and you’re freezing. How did you get down the stairs, anyway? Last time, you bumped along on your butt, and I’m sure you didn’t let your sister see that.”

The kid shuffled his feet. “Uh, no. Ellie would have me in a full body cast by now if she saw that.”

“Answer the question.”

“Well, it took me a few minutes – but I walked down them.”

Immediately, Casey peeked down at the jeans covering the kid’s upper thigh, but cupcake here was doing a hell of a job covering himself with his shirt. “You’ve got something on your mind,” Casey said.

“A – a few things, actually.” Chuck glanced over guiltily and trailed off there.

“Mind shedding some light on them?” Casey pointed his chin towards the water. “Before we either freeze or get struck by lightning? What’s eating at you?”

Chuck pressed his lips together, hesitating. “Well, first, it’s just something small, okay? Um, I’m not going to wear my ring when we go into town ... or on the train or anywhere else we go.” He took his hand out of the coat, looked at the ring in awe before shaking his head. “I thought you should know.”

“You can do what you want, I suppose,” Casey said, keeping his features bland. Goddamn this world sometimes.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, that’s not what I want at all.”

“Then why?”

“Why?” Chuck shoved his hand back under the coat and huffed. “I don’t want to do anything that will attract attention to us, okay? If you wear the ring, people might think you’re a widower – and I’m your –”

“Careful, kid,” Casey broke in, his voice dropping a little dangerously.

“Younger cousin?” Chuck put a hand in Casey’s front pocket; their fingers brushed. “I don’t know, something besides your ... husband.”

Casey shoved down the bit of hurt that rose in his chest and tried to brush it off with a shrug. “Heh. You’re counting on people being blind and stupid. Normally, I’d side with you, but on this point, I think they’re going to figure it out, puppy.”

“They might. That’s true, but ...” and Chuck pointed those brown eyes down at their hands, “we both know, Casey, that Beaufort, or heck, even the rest of the world out there, isn’t ready for us. It might take years. And I’d rather not take any more risk than I already have.” The kid pulled his hand back and let those words hang there.

Casey, deciding to leave it alone tonight, stepped back and looked out over the water for a moment. “You said there was something else.”

“It’s kind of bad timing, I know,” Chuck began, “and I probably have no right to ask without explaining - but are you going to give me that piece of paper back?”

“You mean this one?” Casey reached into one pocket and took out the small scrap of paper he had folded neatly in a square. He held it up between two fingers in front of the kid’s face. “Don’t look surprised, sport. Because no one was more surprised than me.”

“And I can explain – really, I can, if you would just let me have it.”

“Let’s talk first,” Casey suggested, lowering his hand and palming it.

“I’d, ah, rather not.” Chuck dithered for just a second before he straightened and squared his shoulders. “You took it from me, and I would like it back now, please.”

Cute, kid. Like it when you try to take charge. Just not now. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t want my feet to catch on fire.”

“That would never happen.”

Casey lifted a brow.

Chuck sighed. “Okay, it did, but I did it on purpose. To make a point.”

“I thought the last I saw of this damn thing was when it was being carried down the river. I have to wonder how something like this ended up in your pocket.” Casey put a hand in his own pocket, chewed his lip, and paused. “Though the better question is why.”

“The first question is easier.” Chuck mustered up a wheedling smile. “Maybe we should start there – and forget the second one?”

Casey grunted, the one that clearly said ‘fat chance, muffin.’

“Okay, then. First, when you found ... it -”

“The Cipher. Let’s just say it, kid.”

“Fine.” Chuck folded his arms and became serious again. “The ... Cipher ... under the floorboards of my bedroom, you probably didn’t notice that a page was missing.”

“It was about four hundred pages, so no, I didn’t stop to count,” Casey replied, unable to withhold sarcasm. “I was in a bit of a hurry that day. A maniac had stolen my ... husband. You know, minor details like that.”

“Um, four hundred and fifty-one, actually,” the kid corrected and promptly winced at Casey’s bland ‘get on with it’ stare. “And I can see you’re not interested in that. Yes, it’s an image from the Cipher. One that makes me -”

“Flash?” Casey filled in for him. “Make living things turn to cinders? Though in Liam’s case, it did make burial easier since we only needed a dustpan, eh, kid?”

“Yes, well, the gift of being able to kill things with your mind isn’t really a great boon for your enemies, now, is it?” he asked, tapping his temple and trying to be funny. It fell flat.

“I thought you hated that thing. That’s why I threw it in the river.”

“I do hate it.” Chuck scooped up a small rock and tossed it in the water, watched it get swallowed up. “I hate what it does to me.”

“Then why do you still have it?”

Chuck’s eyes flicked to Casey and back to the water. “To protect myself – and now us – if we ever need it.”

“Protect?”

“I still have this ... thing, John, and by all accounts, I probably have the only copy of it.” Chuck blew a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t kid yourself. They won’t stop. He’s going to come back. My dad, The Keepers, they know, Casey. Do you think they couldn’t find me here, out in the open like this? They could ... and they’ll do what they did before. Test me. Play their little games with my head. I just know it.”

“I won’t let them,” Casey said.

“I only wanted to be normal.” Chuck put out his hands. “That’s all.”

Casey looked over at him and had to chuckle. “Kid, you are a lot of things – but you are never going to be normal.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“Okay, for starters, you’re building a flying machine – not that I have a problem with it, but some people think it’s a loony idea.”

“It’s not just a dream. Humans are going to fly someday.”

That was, Casey thought, one of the reasons he loved him. Whether he agreed with it or not, he loved the dream and what it did to the kid’s eyes, making them rather needlessly adorable. Moreover, it explained why Casey felt his own dreams come back to life. “Now that you’re speaking of ‘normal’, you mighta forgotten this, too, but you’re married to a man, cupcake. Maybe we don’t see a problem with it, but to the average numb nuts on the street, it isn’t normal by a long shot.”

“Thanks for the reality check. But you heard her. She’s going to tell my dad I’m here. And I can’t stop her.”

“I know.”

“You’re not worried? What if -”

“If your dad shows up, we’ll be ready,” Casey told him. “Frankly, I hope the arrogant prick does. I gave him his one pass already and warned him fair and square to forget you exist. If he chooses to ignore that warning ... well ....” Casey’s shrug said what his personality never missed the opportunity to say: I’ll shoot him.

“I may go to Hell for this, but I don’t think I would be too upset if you ... had to.”

“Good. You should know something else, kid. What you said earlier?” As he turned to him, Casey lifted his hand and flashed his ring. “I’ll tell society to go fuck themselves if they don’t like this.”

“Because you’re John Casey. You can get away with it.”

“They’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

“But, okay, putting the ring aside, it would be better if I could protect myself,” Chuck announced, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I hate it, I know, but if this ... paper is the last hope, and if I’m in a situation where it’s the only -”

“So you lack that much confidence in me?” Casey asked, stalking right up to his partner. When Chuck avoided him by stepping back and looking out over the water, Casey sighed and took him by the elbows to turn him until they were toe to toe. “Answer.”

“Of course not,” Chuck said quietly.

“Then maybe you weren’t listening when we were out here on the beach a few hours ago. Because I just swore to the moon and stars ... to that ocean right there, to your friends and family that I would take care of you. Protect your skinny ass from every boogie man and bad guy, and even from bumping your noggin on a door if I have to.”

“The last one? I can’t make any promises.” Chuck smiled lamely and tapped his head again.

“Yeah, and I made a vow and I don’t take it lightly,” Casey retorted in a voice that commanded him to shut up with the jokes for a minute. “I’m here to protect you – just as you’ll protect me in your own way.”

That made the kid’s lips curl in a bewildered yet grateful smile. “I will,” he said.

Casey took hold of the kid’s jaw and gently tipped his head up to meet his eyes. “Again, hopefully for the last time, do you trust me?”

The kid stared back at him for a long time, then moved a hand under his arm to wrap around Casey’s waist and let his fingers dig in, an obvious assertive maneuver of his own. “Can I have the paper now?” he asked.

Casey pulled back and turned away, drew a deep breath. Looking out over the water, he noticed the coming storm had kicked up a stiff breeze, the surf crashing more forcefully with every passing minute. Damn. He hated to do it, but after watching the silently snapping lightning in the distance, he held out his hand and passed off the paper to his husband.

“It’s yours,” Casey said, trying to keep his voice steady. The lack of confidence cut a little, but that was just something he’d have live with. “Your choice to do what you want.”

“Thanks.” Chuck took it in his hand without looking at it. He rubbed the back of his neck and started to stuff it in his pocket. He paused for a minute, feeling it.

And then he wadded it up, wheeled back, and tossed it with all the muscle he could into the roiling surf.

The crinkled paper hit the water without a sound, rode on a wave. The kid watched it float and bob wildly before sinking and dissolving out of sight.

All uncertainly melted away with its disappearance.

That’s it. Faith in me. Casey’s throat closed up, and he simply put an arm around his lover, the man who would be his husband forever, the man who trusted him with his own life, always. “Not gonna let you down, brown eyes.”

Chuck reached out, closed his hand over a rigid bicep. A crooked smile spread across his face, dispelling the shadows. It made him such a sexy picture, long jean-clad legs, hair ruffling in the wind, that it almost took his breath away. He had to look over at the water so he wouldn’t make a damn fool of himself.

“It’s gone,” Chuck said. “At least, I hope the rest of it never surfaced out of the river.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it did or not.” Casey reached over and took his hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, the circle of gold on his finger. “We’ll deal with whatever comes at us.”

Chuck squeezed his hand and faced him, met him eye to eye. “Thank you for fighting for me all this time.”

Casey shrugged, finding himself at a loss. “We should go inside. Your hands are cold, and right now I can think of about a dozen ways to warm you up that are more fun than the coat.”

“Something tells me you don’t mean the cat sleeping on our feet.”

While he knew the kid was teasing him, Casey caught his wrist and brought him right up to his body, their thighs brushing. “Don’t think that damn cat is sleeping between us, either. There won’t be any space there.”

“Sounds ... interesting,” Chuck said.

“Not for the cat.” As Casey leaned in to taste his lips, Chuck slipped a hand up and under his shirt, dragging it along the top of his jeans to hold him there. When the kiss ended, he pulled back only enough to caress Casey’s cheek, letting him see the soft gleam of the wedding band on his finger. The next uphill climb would be to make sure the kid wouldn’t take it off, ever, but that had to be for another day.

“Let’s go.” Chuck tugged him a step or two. “I’m surprised Ellie hasn’t been down here looking for us.”

“Surprised isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Hah.”

Casey smiled back at him and curved his hand over Chuck’s. “Move it before I throw you down and work on some new patterns in the sand for her to find.”

“Because the first time wasn’t humiliating enough,” Chuck mumbled. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Casey felt the kid’s slight balk. The hand that had been holding his wriggled until Casey took the hint that Chuck wanted him to let go.

“What’s wrong?” Casey asked.

“Um, I’m ... just going to go up on my own in a minute. Why don’t you go head?”

“Hm? Why?” Though by now, Casey knew damn well why.

“You know – maybe it was the bourbon making me, um, light-headed?” Chuck leaned back on the stair railing to let him go past. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise. I just – hey. Hey!”

“Come on, cupcake,” Casey said, giving the kid not a second to react before he bent down and scooped him up in his arms. “Let’s go.”

“Put me down, dammit! Casey, you can’t just hoist me up every time the mood strikes, okay?”

Casey shook his head in exasperation and had to joggle him a bit, getting a sturdier grip. It seemed Chuck wasn’t exactly enjoying the fact he was now cradled like a baby in Casey’s arms. “Listen, if you keep squirming, you’ll have to worry about being dropped on your fool head, pancake.”

“Good! You can do that, you know?!” The squirming picked up in its velocity and the power behind it. It was a reminder that the cupcake did have some muscles when he put his mind to something. “I said, put me down.”

“Not a chance,” Casey replied, and he put an end to that little rebellion by clamping down harder around Chuck’s upper arms and the crook of his knees. “Keep acting like an unruly five-year-old, puppy, and I may never let you down.”

Chuck, wisely figured the battle was useless, folded his arms over his chest and scowled. “If you keep acting like a caveman, I may sleep on the sofa tonight.”

“Like hell you will,” Casey growled. “Mind telling me what’s got you balled up?”

“I – I can walk up the steps myself.”

“Yeah, I know you can. But I’d prefer to do it with less blood involved.” Casey took the first step before the struggle began anew, a little more vigor behind it. Momentarily surprised, the larger man had to stop or he really was going to drop him.

“Casey, listen to me,” Chuck went on with a gasp, throwing an apprehensive glance up the staircase. “What will my sister think?”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Well ... yes. I mean no.” Knowing he’d better get to his point, Chuck slid an arm out and flattened his palm against Casey’s chest. Since Casey had no inclination of stopping, he tightened his hold, secretly pleased that the move let the kid feel the flex of muscles under his hand. “Ah – okay, I know you’re trying to assert yourself as the well, dominant wolf in the pack, but -”

“No trying about it, sunshine.”

“I’m worried about what everyone will think!”

Casey studied the tilt of that stubborn face for a second. “I hope they’ll think that I’m doing my husbandly duties by taking care of you, like I swore I would.”

Chuck, still not buying it, pushed against Casey’s chest again. “You think I can’t take care of myself. That I’m not really ... much of a man.”

Casey stared so long without blinking he felt his eyes drying out. Finally, at a loss for another response, he let out a disbelieving laugh and rolled his eyes up at the heavens. “Kid, sometimes I don’t know what the hell goes through your head.”

Chuck raised a brow. The disapproving purse of his lips said he still didn’t get it. “Maybe you should put me down now. I can get -”

“I’ve told you before, Bartowski,” Casey interrupted with authority in his voice. “Everything you’ve been through ... the Cipher, being alone all those months.” He waited to make his point. “The truth is ... you’re the bravest man I know.”

Chuck stopped pushing and finally let his hand just drop on his stomach. “Then put me down and let me prove it.”

“You really weren’t listening out there, were you?”

“I was listening.”

“Yeah? The vows? You keep telling me you heard everything, but maybe you had your head in the clouds. Because you didn’t hear a damn thing.”

“That’s not true.”

“You took a bullet to the leg. You need help now.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Chuck put a foot out to catch the railing and missed.

“I’m not done.” Casey made a point of stopping there, waited for him to give up with the foot swinging routine. It took a few seconds, but he did.

“Fine. Finish so you can let me go.”

“This goes two ways, between you and me, buttercup. It means, right now, you’re mine to protect ... to love.”

Chuck bit down on his lip and swallowed, his eyes not leaving Casey’s face. “I ... know.”

“So maybe you should know this has nothing to do with one being strong ... or smart or rich,” Casey said with a frustrated sigh. “It has to do with helping your partner when they need help, and knowing it will be reciprocated when the time comes.”

“Reciprocated?”

“Damn straight. So when I need your help, I expect you to do your husbandly duties, too. If I get a cold, I expect you to be there, keeping me warm, and hell, even wiping my nose. Got that?”

Chuck watched him carefully while he rolled that around in his head. At last, Casey felt two fingers play with the placket of his shirt before sliding right in between the buttons to touch flesh. “Anything else you’re going to need?” Chuck asked, sounding less irked about being snatched off his feet. The kid’s lean muscles seemed to unwind in his arms, that long body becoming slack. “Any other way I can serve you?”

Casey grunted, ignoring the obvious for now. “Yeah, one more thing: if I fall down and break my leg, well, if I were you, I’d be doing something about those sticks you call arms, kid, because it will be your skinny ass hauling me up the stairs. Not the other way around.”

“All I can say is I hope dragging is allowed,” Chuck noted, and by the time he laid a hand on Casey’s arm, he was smiling widely enough for Casey to roll his eyes at him. “Because honestly, big guy, there may be various stages of schlepping involved in getting you up the stairs. But ... sure. I can take care of you, too, when the time comes.”

“Good.” Though he was tempted to roll his eyes again, Casey decided he’d rather lean in and kiss that dazzling smile. His teeth caught the kid’s bottom lip, and he worried it a bit until he heard Chuck let out a tiny groan. When he pulled away, the bruised-lip smile was back, and the brown eyes were filled with something between appreciation and ... fuck, actual worship. Casey wasn’t sure what he ever did to deserve that look, but he’d do everything from here on out to earn it. “I may be Goddamn brand new at this, but I think that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

Chuck lifted his head to kiss him, only able to catch the bottom of Casey’s jaw, and laughed. “You might be on to something.” One hand stuck between their bodies managed to slide out and come around the back of Casey’s neck for support. “Are you ever going to carry me up? Someone said there might be more cake.”

Casey took a deep breath and climbed the stairs with the most confounding man on earth in his arms. More confounding was how happy he was to do it.

-x-

Naturally, the moment Casey reached the landing, his sister came breezing through the doorway with a tray under her arm and Devon on her heels. Just as naturally, she jumped to a conclusion that was going to force him to bedrest for the foreseeable future. Not the fun kind Casey had planned, either.

“Listen, El, before you -”

“Oh. My God,” Ellie said, pulling up short at the sight of her lanky brother cradled in a man’s arms. “Chuck, what’s wrong?”

“Ellie – Casey, please, put me down -”

“Are you hurt?” Her eyes darted down to his upper leg, covered by the bottom hem of his white shirt. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Chuck said in a hurry.

“No,” Casey replied at the same time.

“What?” Chuck swung his head up to glower at him, except his new husband wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“He went down the stairs on his own,” Casey revealed, gazing directly at Ellie, “and wasn’t able to climb back up without trying to put on an act.”

“You ..! I’m okay. Promise.”

“The kid’s been favoring that leg all day –”

“I have not!”

“And I think he’s bleeding again, but he’s trying to cover it up.”

“What? How would you know?”

“Like I’m not going to notice that,” Casey replied gruffly, finally acknowledging him.

“You traitor,” Chuck protested. It was pride – okay, and maybe a hint of sulkiness - that made him let go of Casey’s neck and fold his arms over his chest, somewhat like the child he had been accused of being. “Some husband you’ve turned out to be.”

“Did it seep through the bandage?” Ellie asked Casey.

“Of course not!” Chuck broke in. “I would’ve told you if it did. I said I’m fine.”

“He won’t let me get a good look,” Casey reported to Ellie, back to ignoring him again.

“Because it’s fine.” Chuck gave him another annoyed look. “Can you just set me down now. Please?”

“No.” Ellie walked right up to them and put a hand on his arm. “My God! He’s freezing! Chuck, what did you do?”

“Sis, calm down. I only -”

“The kid said he wanted to cool off a little,” Casey explained, rolling his eyes again. “Guess that’s bookworm code for ‘freeze my ass off until it’s a block of ice’, eh? I gave him my coat, but it didn’t help much.”

Chuck frowned. His husband wasn’t doing such a good job defending his honor at the moment. “I was getting ready to come back in, you know.”

“I found him wading in the water,” Casey said as Ellie put a hand on Chuck’s forehead. “I decided enough was enough so I dragged him up here. You should probably take a look. I’m sure he tripped going down the stairs.”

“You’re a big help,” Chuck muttered.

“Thanks, John.” Ellie actually flashed a quick smile at Casey before she stepped to the side and pointed towards the doorway. “Can you carry him inside? How about the sofa in front of the fireplace? Morgan’s got the fire going.”

As Chuck blinked up at him, he saw a small grin cross his partner’s face. My God, his husband knew exactly what he was doing! Combining forces in the game of ‘Protect Chuck from his clumsy self while sliding into Ellie’s good graces.’

Damn sneaky, boyfriend. Casey would have Ellie eating out of his hand by the time they hit the road back to Beaufort.

Well, there was no sense fighting now that they ganged up, so Chuck did what he could by giving both of them the stink-eye. Casey brushed it off with the ease of practice, edged past her, and obediently followed where she had pointed.

“We are talking later,” Chuck said, but that also landed on deaf ears. Before the kid could even think of wriggling away, he was whisked through the doorway, the living room, and carefully laid out on the sofa like a good little patient.

Immediately, Chuck scooted up to settle his head on the armrest and he flopped a hand over his forehead. Looking up and around, he saw that he had all the assistance of two doctors and one slightly troubled husband. “Again, I am fine,” he argued, knowing that would get him nowhere. “Can’t we just go to bed?”

“All right, we’re going to have to remove his pants first,” Ellie said, her voice taking on a clinical doctor tone.

The grunt that emanated from his lover did not even pretend to be decent.

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Sabine said, nudging Morgan in the ribs. “My little friend and I can start on the dishes.”

“Oh,” Morgan said, taking the hint. “Um, sure.”

Chuck grimaced at the awkwardness. “Guys, seriously, I can go in the bedroom and put on a bandage myself – if I need one. Which I’m sure I don’t.”

“I suppose he’s not going to let me take his pants off,” Ellie said and tried to lift up the hem of the shirt.

Chuck batted her hand away. “Ellie, have you heard a single word I’ve -”

“He only puts up a little fight in the beginning,” Casey murmured under his breath, though Chuck believed he was really enjoying this. “After that, it’s pretty easy.”

“Even though I am his doctor and of course I have seen him in his undershorts before,” Ellie felt the need to point out. “Come on, Chuck.”

Chuck raised his hand while he kept the other firmly latched onto the bottom of the shirt to cover the top of his jeans. “I am here, you know? You don’t need to talk as if I can’t hear every word you’re saying.”

“Devon, can you bring my black bag? I left it under the buggy seat.”

“Um, sure thing. I’ll be right back.” Devon nodded and ducked out the doorway.

Ellie turned back to him. “Chuck, are you going to let me lift your shirt so that I can see your jeans?”

“Who is this person you speak of?” Chuck asked, slapping on a look of mock curiosity. “The person who is lying right here telling you he’s fine? The very same person who is not going to let you both go all doctor-crazy on me. And no. To answer your question, I am not going to let you lift my shirt.” To prove it, he hung on tighter and set a scowl to his face. “You can leave now.”

“Oh, son of a ....” Casey said, noting the grip he had on his shirt. “Think that’s gonna work, huh?”

“Chuck, it really wasn’t a question,” Ellie added.

As Chuck peered up at his staunch husband and equally resolute sister, he had to face facts. There was about a five percent chance of retaining his dignity in the next minute, and that was only if lightning hit the house. That kind of diversion should give him enough time to scramble to the bedroom and lock the door.

“You heard me,” Chuck said. “If you don’t mind, step into the kitchen. Both of you. I’ll change the bandage myself.”

Casey and Ellie exchanged a meaningful glance. They were in cahoots, and Chuck didn’t like the look they then gave him. While he tried to scoot back further, Casey leaned over and lowered his face directly over Chuck’s. All at once, Chuck could see nothing but a very stubborn pair of blue eyes.

“Um, hello,” the kid said and cleared his throat.

Casey didn’t waver or smile. “Chuck.”

“Are you looking for something?”

Casey’s eyes darted down and back up again. He seemed less than impressed with the grip Chuck had on the hem. “Let go of the shirt.”

“Um, I’m good. But thanks.”

“Don’t make me use extreme measures, brown eyes,” Casey replied, his expression remaining implacable.

Chuck shot him an equally tenacious look, but oh, man. Casey had him beat in that department by miles. “Oh?” The kid attempted composure, though his stomach jumped. “Extreme? And what would that be?”

Casey slanted a look to the side and lowered his lips to Chuck’s ear, whispered, “I have no problem stripping you like a gun, kid. You should know that by now.”

Chuck peered up at him, assessed, and gulped. “Bastard,” he whispered back.

“Um, Chuck, I don’t know what he’s telling you, but you should listen to your husband. We could’ve had you all bandaged up by now if you would just let us do our job.”

“Here, Ellie. I’ve got the bag,” Devon announced, barging back into the room. “I have my own as well if you need anything.”

“I should be all set.” Ellie took the black bag from him and turned to look down at Chuck with a frown. “The only thing I need now is a cooperative patient.”

Chuck looked from face to face, finally threw up the hand holding his shirt, and sagged back in disgust. “Fine. Yes, it hurts. And maybe it’s bleeding, but please, please don’t -”

“Let me see.” Ellie lifted the hem he had just released and inspected the denim over his upper thigh. “You are bleeding. Hm. I have to admit, it’s not much. I think we can patch you up.”

“So no need to call the undertaker? Yippee,” Chuck grumbled, starting to unbutton his jeans. He figured he had to, because God help him if he didn’t move fast enough and one of them tried to assist. It took some effort, holding his undershorts up while tugging the jeans down, but his caretakers behaved long enough to let him struggle to get the pants off, and only helped when they got jumbled around his ankles.

“I’ll handle this,” Ellie said to Devon, obviously seeing her baby brother as her territory.

Devon picked up on the signal and held up his hand. “Why don’t I go into the kitchen and see if the others need help?”

“Excellent idea.” Ellie began to dig through her bag, but lifted her chin to stare at Casey when he didn’t take the same cue. “You’re staying?”

Casey lifted his left hand. Waggling the ring finger emphasized the gold band – and the sarcasm that came with it. “Yeah, I’m staying.”

“All right, I guess you are,” Ellie said, acquiescing with a tight nod.

“I don’t know, El,” the kid offered up, “We haven’t had our wedding night yet.”

“I know you’re mad about having to strip down to your undershorts, little brother, but must you be a smartass?” Ellie pulled out a stretch of bandage and held it up. “Here. Casey, can you cut this about where my thumb is? That should be long enough.”

Casey patted Chuck’s head, smirked, and clipped the length of bandage for her. “I’ll go get some hot water.”

“Thanks, John.” Sitting down on a stool next to the sofa, Ellie inspected the bandage and began to carefully unwrap it. “Tell me if this hurts.”

“I told you both, mother hens, it won’t.”

Ellie looked up from examining the bullet wound to briefly roll her eyes. “Not bad,” she observed, touching the area gingerly. “Casey redressed your wound last night?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“It’s not the way I tie up a bandage – but I have to admit, he did a good job.” Ellie pressed in a little until Chuck gave a tiny flinch. “Does that hurt?”

“Not much,” Chuck said, answering honestly.

“Good. There’s only a little leakage outside one of the sutures.” While she bent her head to take another good look, Casey returned with a pan of hot water and a clean cloth. “Thanks. You can put it right there.”

Chuck tucked a hand behind his head and did his best to relax his leg. “Okay, so it bled a little. Big deal.”

“Well, it means that you did overextend yourself today.” Taking the cloth, Ellie dipped it in the water and wrung it out. “You’re back to bedrest, bucko for a least the next forty-eight hours.”

Casey managed to keep a straight face. “I think we can handle that.”

Chuck looked up from his sister’s ministrations to raise a brow at Casey. If the mischievous eyes meant anything, his husband had missed the word ‘rest’ and hopped straight to permission to keep him flat on his back for the next two days or so.

“Noted,” Chuck said. “Meals in bed and backrubs for the foreseeable future.”

“Uh-huh.” Ellie gave him a look that told Chuck she knew exactly what he was doing, but she let it go with a smile. A strange, smelly ointment was spread gently over the wound and after that, she set the cloth down and picked up the length of bandage. “You’ll have to negotiate that with your new ... husband, but just make sure you stay off your feet. Got that, little brother?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Chuck saluted her, and when she bent her head to poke some more, he pulled the mature move and stuck his tongue out a Casey.

At first, Casey narrowed his eyes at that tongue, assessing his next move. Since he was behind Ellie’s back, he felt he could get away with a quick crotch grab, ‘Yeah? Right here’, which he promptly did. His smirk broadened considerably when he got the blush from Chuck he was after.

“Okay, I’m done. Do you mind putting this back in the bag?” As Ellie passed off the tin of ointment and roll of bandage to Casey, his personality shifted within a heartbeat to obedient nursemaid and assistant.

“Yeah. Are we all set?” Casey asked.

“Yep.” Ellie tapped Chuck’s leg good-humoredly and rose up to stand next to the sofa. “He’ll be up and tripping over his own feet in no time.”

“Hilarious, sis.” Chuck was tempted to stick out his tongue at her as well, but instead reached down to grab the jeans he had been forced to shed a few minutes ago. The pants were draped over the far end of the couch, so he ended up using his foot to bring them up where he could get a grip on them.

“Oh. Hey, careful,” Ellie said as she reached over to take the pants from him. “You’re going to need help getting those back on. Why don’t you lift your -”

“Got a better idea,” Casey interrupted. Striding up to the side of the sofa, he smoothly yet firmly shouldered her out of the way and bent down. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

“What? What are you –” Chuck looked from Casey to his sister, who was startled at being not quite pushed away. Unfortunately, the kid figured out a few seconds too late what his partner intended to do, and by the time he started trying to scoot out of Casey’s reach, he was already cradled in those strong arms again. “Casey -!”

“Easy, kid, I got ya.”

“You do see it’s only ten feet to the bedroom door, for crying out loud! Oh, and one more thing.” Chuck went back to glaring up at him. “You forgot to help me with my pants!”

Chuck felt the muscles under Casey’s shirt move as he shrugged a big shoulder. “Waste of time to put them back on, eh?” Disregarding the kid for now, Casey turned to Ellie. “If you don’t mind, we’ve had a long day, so we’re gonna hit the hay.” - and since his hands were quite full of a miffed husband, he had to tip his head towards the door - “Thanks for the dinner. Mind showing yourselves out?”

Chuck winced at that and started to twist in earnest, but Casey only held on tighter. “Um, good night, El!” the kid said politely, even while he felt his cheeks turning red. “I’ll – ah – talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow,” Ellie replied, sounding stiff, as if she wanted to add a few more physical restrictions to the list she had just barked out.

Casey didn’t give her the chance. The moment the larger man stepped into their bedroom, he turned around, gave Ellie a brusque nod goodnight - and closed the bedroom door with his foot.

The last thing Chuck saw was his sister with nothing but her black bag in one hand and her not-so-innocent brother’s pants in the other.

Oh, hell. Not good.

-x-

Chuck was sprawled out on the bed, deposited there like a lanky stack of sticks on blankets that still had a scent of last night’s activities. They were woodsy and sweetly pungent. Any other time, that alone would cause his body to react, but not this time.

Instead, he gave his lover the dirty look Casey earned. “What was that all about?!”

“What?” Casey asked. “Get over it, Bartowski. The party was over.”

“Are you insane?” Chuck paused to dart a look at the door. The slamming noise still reverberated between his ears. “Did you see the look on her face?”

“What’s the big deal?” Casey gave a half-shrug and began unbuttoning his white dress shirt. “I said thank you, didn’t I?”

“Thank you? That’s it?” Chuck outright gaped. “Wait. You’re smiling – or at least doing that smirk-y thing. You enjoyed that. You really did.”

Casey bit down on a grin and kept working on the buttons. “You make it sound like I needed to make a point. I was only resetting the pecking order now that we’re ... married.” His shirt cooperated by fluttering open, revealing a mile of pale skin and muscle. “What’s mine belongs to you. That the way you see it, pancake?”

“Um.” Chuck coughed. Dang him. Remembering he was angry and trying to make his own point, he dragged his eyes upward.

Upward, he repeated to his brain. Not down there, okay?

“Oh, that was your plan, huh?” Chuck stretched his legs out on the top quilt and laid one hand over the front of his shirt. “Well, for starters, I think you missed some of the conversation when you went into the kitchen to sneak some of that roast beef to Buddy.”

“Did nothing of the sort,” Casey muttered, removing the leather belt from his jeans in one long drag.

“For future reference, if you crane your neck and look into the mirror over the fireplace, you can see into the kitchen.”

“Shut it and tell me what conversation I missed,” he answered as he began working on the buttons of his jeans.

“Um, well.” Chuck got up on his elbows, telling himself he was not going to stare. Okay, only for that second, and only to appreciate the layer of hair over the pecs and a narrow point arrowing down to his navel. Yeah, just that. “You must’ve missed the part where Ellie announced that, of course, they aren’t going back into town tonight in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

Casey’s hands, halfway to moving his jeans down his hips, stilled. “Eh?”

“Ah, now you get it.” Chuck was pleased to finally get a reaction and showed it by arrogantly tucking one hand under his head to get comfortable. With his other hand, the kid reached past his shoulder and tapped the wall directly behind the headboard. “Convenient, huh? Ellie and Sabine are staying in the spare room right on the other side of us.”

Casey gave the wall a look usually reserved for sheriffs. After a moment, he cocked his head at the kid, contemplating. Gradually, he tugged his pants all the way down, kicked them off when they got to his ankles. The undershorts had gone along for the ride.

That was not his ‘let’s go to sleep’ signal.

Standing there, tall and stark naked, he strolled over to the side of the bed, bringing all of that dangerous grace and muscles into the kid’s vision as he crossed the floor. “Other side of the wall, kid?” he asked in a low rumble.

Chuck blinked. “Um, yeah?”

“Are you still wondering what we’re gonna do about that?” Casey began to work his own cock. Slowly, dragging his palm up and down his shaft, right up to and under the broad ridge of the head, back down. After a few long strokes, pressing his lips together and eyeing the kid like roast beef, he then put a knee on the bed next to Chuck’s bicep. And waited.

“Maybe?”

“Heh. I have some news for you, brown eyes,” Casey said, letting his hand take another ride down. It wasn’t an accident that the velvet, soft crown rubbed against the kid’s arm, but he wasn’t about to move it. “I want to make sure you’re listening.”

“I’m ... listening.” Chuck swallowed down the sudden burst of saliva that had pooled in his mouth. God, Casey would chuckle if he knew the reaction he caused. He’d let Chuck suck him, though, right now. The blue eyes would disappear as his head dropped back to his shoulders ... and he’d let Chuck’s mouth work over him ….

Crap. Now for sure Chuck knew he wasn’t going to be able to look away. The need in his lower belly was like a knot drawing tighter, which was exactly what he expected Casey was going after.

“Good. Here’s the deal.” Casey’s hand touched his jaw, his thumb rubbing along his cheek. “I don’t care if your sister pulls up a chair, pops some popcorn, and sells tickets,” he told him. “We are gonna consummate this marriage tonight.”

“Oh.” Chuck’s eyes lingered on the distraction next to him before he realized he looked like an idiot. “I – I think I can be quiet,” he whispered, “Very, very quiet.”

Casey dropped his hands on either side of Chuck’s head and lowered his face to the warm crook of his neck. Casey’s short hair tickled him on the temple, and the fingers tracing his lips made him dart out his tongue. Oh, God, the control the man had, just with a simple touch or a soft demand while his other hand threaded through his tangled curls.

Chuck felt like a rabbit who had wandered into the cave of a bear, a wild animal, waiting to be devoured, wanting to be consumed and not caring. Needing to feel the hot breath over his skin, the hunger and weight of Casey’s body pressing him down. Chuck relaxed into the mattress, melting into every light caress.

“No,” Casey said, lips right up to the edge of his ear. “I don’t want you to be quiet.”

“You d-don’t?”

“No.” Casey stopped playing with his curls to tip Chuck’s head up, letting him feel the slide of his body against his. “I wanna hear you babble and stammer like you always do. I wanna hear you make those sounds that tell me how badly you want it, and that what I’m giving you ... is gonna leave a permanent mark. In a place I can’t see ....”

Chuck didn’t like to think just how appropriate that was. As Casey pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, Chuck was overwhelmed with heat and the need to roll into him. The kid closed his eyes and his hands scrabbled to clench two fistfuls of the quilt instead of his chest. Why give away that much? “Maybe – maybe tomorrow? When they’re gone ... but tonight ... we have to be quiet, okay?”

Casey lifted his head high enough for Chuck to catch the smirk. His partner leaned in and fitted his mouth over his, his hand now holding his jaw and vulnerable throat, controlling the moment, controlling everything even as Chuck let go of the blanket and took hold of the first thing he could, one meaty bicep. Sensing the need, Casey made an approving growl low in his chest ... and with his hand, he restrained the kid’s chin, tangling tongues like combatants, keeping it steady, wet, deep.

When Casey reached down and gripped him through his undershorts, Chuck groaned in his mouth, and Casey answered with a murmur of humor. “That didn’t sound too quiet, kid. And it was too easy.”

Chuck looked to the side guiltily and momentarily pressed his lips together. “It was an accident. It’s ... not going to happen again.”

“Accident, eh?” Casey snorted softly, and stroking his fingers up and down Chuck’s length over the flimsy cotton, closing around him firmly, he placed his lips a scant millimeter form Chuck’s and whispered, “Sounds like a challenge, pancake. We’re gonna see about that.”

-x-End Chapter Thirty-One Where the Road Ends-x-


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

Where the Road Ends

Chapter Thirty-Two

-x-

“I – I didn’t mean it to come out like a challenge,” Chuck pointed out quickly, “because, well, I -”

“Know what that does to me?” Casey filled in for him. His smirk became more pronounced.

Chuck didn’t need a hand-drawn map to know what that smirk meant. “Uh-oh,” the kid said. With Casey’s cock now prodding against his upper thigh, Chuck’s undershorts grew tight, and he shifted a few inches away on the mattress so that he could talk reason with his other head: the one that would think twice about yowling like a randy tom cat in the spring with Ellie right there on the other side of the wall. “Ah, I gave you some room, so why don’t you lie down … like a good boy?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with being good … or a boy,” Casey assured him with another prod. His partner chose to stay straight-armed over Chuck’s body with two meaty hands on either side of his head, looming. The pose put Casey on display like a muscled cowboy, skin already glistening like he had just thrown a hundred bales of hay - or was preparing to tame a restless colt. Each tendon just stood out tauter, the swells and dips of hard flesh more distracting than usual.

Casey probably knew that and was using it to his advantage.

Chuck frowned up at him. “Maybe we should negotiate.”

Casey’s look said the only thing he had planned on negotiating was getting the kid to roll over. “For the love of Christ, don’t tell me something’s bothering you, brown eyes.”

“Um, no, it’s just that under these circumstances, I promised myself that I can show a little restraint, that’s all.” Because no way was he going to be tempted to do anything crazy with Ellie eavesdropping on them ….

As if he were privy to the kid’s thoughts, Casey lowered himself slowly over him, like the downward press of a push-up, the strain causing his muscles to ripple and roll under his pale skin. “Restraint, huh? Wanna fight it?” Casey eyed him speculatively. “You are going to make it a challenge, aren’t you?”

“No, I never said -”

“’Cause if you think you are, well, cupcake, I’ll just have to pull out those … bandages you like so much. Is that what this is about?” Casey bent his head to bump his nose against Chuck’s with sexy playfulness. “Wanna try that again?”

“You mean the quasi-ropes you used to tie me to the headboard?!” the kid hissed back at him. Perhaps too loudly. Immediately, Chuck snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes at himself. He sent a silent prayer heavenward that Ellie and Sabine did not hear that.

“Fun, huh.” Casey lifted one hand to drag his fingers over the kid’s bicep, contemplating his options. “You’re already making my dick rock hard. You seem to have some trouble remembering what those long legs do to me … and your big eyes. They’re telling me you’re all mine … and that you need to get fucked.”

“Shh! She’ll hear y –!” The rest of his protest was cut off by the hand the size of a catcher’s mitt landing on his face. “Mmph!”

“Can it.” Casey kept his hand where it was and rolled his eyes. “Not the sounds I had in mind, Bartowski,” he muttered. Once Casey had him quiet, he nodded and dragged his cock over Chuck’s flat stomach, back and forth a few times, knowing Chuck would glance down. When the kid automatically did, Casey smiled. “See what you did to me? That’s all your fault, stud.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Heh. Now when I take my hand away, I don’t wanna hear something that sounds like I stepped on the cat’s tail.”

“Mm-nphg!” Chuck glared up at him and breathed through his nose petulantly, conveying his displeasure.

“And stop looking at me that way,” Casey grumbled. Gauging him for a moment, he took the silence and lack of squirming as begrudging obedience. “Now who’s being a good boy,” he murmured, patting Chuck’s cheek.

“Fuph!” As the kid thought about biting his palm – gently - Casey lifted his hand from Chuck’s mouth and immediately leaned down to kiss him before he could make a sound. His fingers stayed busy, sliding down to dig into Chuck’s thigh while he rubbed up against him.

“Yeah, that’s better ....” Casey said, dragging his cock through the kid’s short hairs until their dicks touched. “Mm.”

“I hate it when you do that.” Chuck thought about it. “Um, just to clarify, I meant the hand slapping thing, not well -”

“Heh. Figured that much,” Casey said. “Don’t worry, kid, I have a plan.”

“Your plans usually get me in trouble,” Chuck whispered, proving he could be quiet.

Casey peered down at him, lifted a hand, and carefully wet one of his own fingers. “You usually like this kind of trouble.”

“Only when it doesn’t involve family members,” he said. His eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the tip of Casey’s finger. “That’s not such a great idea -”

“Let’s get rid of these first, eh, kid?” These, Chuck found out a half second later, were his thin, cotton undershorts, which Casey took hold of at the waistband. Well, heck, they might as well go for all the good they were doing. His own dick was nearly punching through the fabric by now.

“Easy ... quietly,” Chuck said, feeling Casey already starting to pull. His dick popped free and said hello by bobbing stiff as a poker towards the ceiling.

“Hello, beautiful,” Casey rumbled, glancing down with a wicked grin.

“Sh! Just take them off all the way, okay?”

“Then lift a little.” Watching Casey sit back on his haunches, Chuck dutifully lifted his butt to allow his lover to slide them down his thighs, calves, and finally over his feet. When they came free, Casey tossed them over his shoulder. “There. Get used to being naked for a while, husband. We have nowhere to go all week.”

“I like the sound of that,” Chuck said as quietly as he could.

“Yeah, and I like this sound.”

“Sound? No, no sound. There will be no making of any kind – oh. Ooh.” Chuck’s voice tripped thickly at the end, his breath catching on Casey’s finger pushing into him now, one knuckle sliding into his tight hole. “Oh, you are a baaad man ....”

“What were you saying, cupcake?” Casey asked, plastering on a look of innocence.

“You are not playing fair at all, but why am I not surprised?”

“Well, long legs, if that wasn’t fair, then this could be considered downright criminal.”

“What – oooh, fu -” Chuck groaned as the tips of two fingers delved in, immediately deep and a fingertip away from too rough. “Casey, must you t-torture me?”

That smile, smug, fucking sexy, pointed at him would make him nervous if it didn’t look so damn hot. “Don’t think you meant torture right then, muffin.” Casey demonstrated what he meant by sliding in, out. “That feel like torture?”

Chuck caught himself before did something stupid. Like bear down on it. No, he could not give in to that.

Oh, God.

Casey could not just play with him like this. Maybe it was time to assert himself. Chuck hesitated only for a second before he took hold of Casey’s cock. “Whoa.” It amazed him once again, how something as hard as steel could still be like velvet on his palm. “You. Be good and hold still,” he whispered forcefully. While Casey watched, Chuck felt him up and down, crown to base, keeping his fingers lightly looped around him. “See, you can be good.”

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Casey murmured as he bent in closer over Chuck, thrusting into his hand. “Want that?”

“Shh. Come and lie down next to me,” Chuck said quietly.

“Not yet, sunshine,” Casey told him, still looming over him. He took a second to caress Chuck’s ribcage with the back of his knuckle, waiting to see what the kid would do next. Chuck peered up at him and slowly, slowly, smeared pre-come around the head. He was rewarded when Casey sucked in a breath of pleasure. “Like that, huh? See, we can be sneaky, can’t we?”

“Yep.” Casey shifted down to sit on his own knees, and the kid had to let go of his cock with a tiny disappointed sound. “But what’s the fun in that, kid.”

“F-fun? But ... I thought you might like – mmnph.” Chuck’s sound of disappointment dissolved into something else entirely, miles hungrier and loud enough to be humiliating when Casey repositioned himself between Chuck’s calves. And bent down to take the kid’s hard dick into his mouth. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit ... really? Now? Okay, just enjoy it ... shutting up now.”

Somehow, Casey the Magician managed to both chuckle and suck hard at the same time.

God, just figures the big bastard could use his mouth in so many ways at once.

Already Chuck had one hand on the back of Casey’s neck and was breathing out encouragement to his lover. Very softly. “Oh ... god ... you – you are really, really good at that ... S-see, this can be fun and quiet, you know? Mm. Shit. Oh, god, I hate you for that.” Chuck slammed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into the short curls at Casey’s nape, felt a quiver along his lower belly. “Not fair,” he hissed, just as a warm, wet tongue licked his broad head before taking another trip down the veined, hard surface.

“Mnnn,” Chuck moaned deep in his throat. Opening his glassy eyes at half-mast, he got a vague impression of flickers of lightning as the storm that had threatened to roll off the ocean began to crackle in earnest.

The same sensation was happening in his lower belly, making his toes curl. Every sense tuned into Casey’s ministrations. It was fast, artless head, the sort of thing that had Chuck trying to think of anything else besides the beautiful man giving him a blow job on his wedding night, because he wasn’t about to whimper too loud, or worse yet, come this soon.

Then again, dang him, he had to watch. Oh, God. Had to. Lifting his head, the kid looked down through heavy eyes and got a view of his lover taking his cock deeply, gliding up and down. Holy Christ. He didn’t even have the courtesy to look up at him; he was into his job, keeping a thumb and forefinger clasped tight around the root of his cock while a couple of fingers still worked their way inside of him.

“CaseyCaseyCasey,” Chuck heard himself begin to mumble under his breath. “Please don’t ... I mean, please don’t make me ... okay? I want ... there are other things, okay? And I know – ohgodrighttherejesus – you can do this all night and make it last like t-torture if you wanted to, but it really would be nice to – ffuckkk.”

Casey dropped him and kissed the tip. “Anything you say, cupcake,” he responded. It was amazing how he could just slide two fingers into him, and just like that, all resistance turned to dust. “Need a little more of this, instead? Feel good in you?”

“Oh, yeah ... like that, God, yeah,” Chuck panted softly.

“Or like this, pancake.” Casey looked up into his eyes, locked with his, and drew him down slowly, making Chuck watch his dick get sucked in and licked.

“That’s d-dirty – not nice!” He bit down on his tongue and watched him, rubbed Casey’s neck, and let him know he needed to ... stop or something.

A chuckle vibrated along his cock, also not nice. Casey knew exactly what he was doing and how to hold him in place, keeping him right at the edge of falling already without letting him get that final push. When Casey pulled back to tease the rim of his crown with his tongue, well, Chuck had to say something about that.

“Stop!”

“Are you sure?’ Casey looped around again, warm and wet.

“Mnph!” Chuck clamped the heel of his hand between his teeth. His eyes bulged in shock. A yelp escaped anyway.

Casey froze and lifted his head, a brief second of worry as he studied the kid’s face. His lips were wet with his own saliva, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No! I hurt myself!” Chuck explained, stretching his fingers. “I bit my hand!”

“Heh. Stop doing that, kid.”

“I hate you right now – ohcrapohcrap …. Nnhp!”

An unholy whimpering bubbled in his throat, just as Casey’s lips did awfully evil things along Chuck’s cock. It seemed he had a secret Cipher of his own, how to control him in his own way, how to unravel the kid, and, heck, it was working. Because they were supposed to be quiet. Ellie, remember?

“Oh, shi-“ On the next glide down, it took everything not to buck up into Casey’s mouth and let out a groan to rattle the windowpanes.

“I liked that little whimper,” Casey breathed against his cock. “Wanna make another one of those sounds for me, kid?”

“N-no!” Taking a deep breath, Chuck tried to shove all of those visions aside – Casey’s warm mouth sucking his cock like the last slug of beer from the bottle - and bit down on his hand just a little harder.

“Stubborn little shit, aren’t you?” Casey pulled back to kiss along his length. “Still not gonna tell me how much you love it?”

“Tomorrow,” Chuck implored. “I promise I will!”

“Not good enough.” Spreading the kid’s legs wider, Casey pulled at Chuck’s cock, thumb nudging the skin at the end, slipping it back and pressing the slit. “Let’s try this,” he said, his hand tightening at the base of his cock, perplexing the kid for just a second until Casey’s grasped hand began sliding up and down. Hot friction worked against him, working him the way only a man knew how to do. “Yeah, is that what you want? Feel good?”

“Oh, hell ....” Chuck inhaled sharply, eyes fastened. Up, down, his cock disappeared in that big hand. After a few laps, the kid’s lips automatically parted, and he felt his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He had to bite down hard to keep it from licking his lips in time with Casey’s hand. His hips were jerking, cock so stiff it barely moved in his hand. “Dang you ....”

“Like watching me, kid? What I’m doing?” Casey cocked a brow and kept his hand rolling. “Thinking about doing me next?”

Chuck felt his breathing come harder, his lungs beginning to work like bellows. He tried to sit up, and somehow, his hands landed on Casey’s shoulders. “Behave and come up here!” he shushed.

Casey just gave him a look, the kid’s prick still in his hand. ‘Behave’ must mean something else in native badass, because instead of obeying the rules, Casey bent his head to kiss the wet tip, lips leaving a trail of licks and sucks down his cock.

“For the record, that is not behaving!” Chuck hissed, his buttocks squeezing together in a way that meant something entirely different.

Casey felt it. He made an inarticulate sound against Chuck’s cock, part growl, part moan, and Chuck really thought that was it – he could already picture the uncomfortable side-eye from Ellie at the breakfast table, delicately avoiding the topic of trapped animal sounds coming from their bedroom. Somewhere the gods were laughing at him.

Just when Chuck thought he was going to come, Casey brought his mouth up to graze over his abdomen. Slowly, exploring as he went, his lover moved upward while the kid still watched and felt warm lips sliding over his ribcage, up his breast bone, stopping to lick or tease as he skimmed his skin. God, did he feel it. It left a path of fire over his flesh, burning all the way up like hot oil.

“Wow, you actually listened,” Chuck whispered, threading his fingers through Casey’s hair. Perspiration from his activities made tufts stick together, so Chuck couldn’t help but smile when Casey had finally worked his way to his neck and lips. “Your hair is doing funny things. Now that’s a switch, huh?”

“Keep touching it, kid, and I will bite you,” Casey grumbled. He was on top of Chuck now, holding him down, the perfect position for their cocks to rub along each other, a situation Casey took advantage of by moving his hips tortuously. “Not there, either.”

“Good, because biting there would – ow!” Chuck rubbed his pec, which he was sure had light teeth marks on his pale flesh after Casey had dropped a love bite there. “Hey, you said you wouldn’t bite!”

“I only said your cock was safe,” Casey teased, warm breath on his cheek. His mouth moved over to one nipple; his teeth flicked over it, seeking friction, then licking. “Besides, I’ll bite you if I want to, brown eyes.”

“Hey, the, er, Deputy Down Below might have something to say about that, stud -”

“Chuck,” came a feminine voice from the other side of the wall. “I heard you say ow,” “Are you okay?”

“Oh, crap. Shh!” Going perfectly still, Chuck took his life in his hands by pulling Casey back by the hair, but he had to get his mouth off that nipple before the kid made another kind of sound. “Stop. Behave, I said!”

Casey seemed perturbed with having his hair used as a handle if that scowl meant anything. “What did you just do, Bartowski?” he asked.

“Honey?” Ellie’s voice rose to greet them. They could hear her clear her throat, and to Chuck’s horror, there was a fumbly knock on the wall. “Are you bleeding?”

“God, don’t tell me she thought you were a virgin,” Casey muttered.

“Jerk,” Chuck muttered back at him. “Be quiet, okay, and she’ll think we’re only -”

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby brother?”

“What the fuck does she think is going on in here?” Casey grumbled into the curve of Chuck’s neck, his lips brushing over the pulse. “Tell her to plug her ears and go to sleep.”

“She heard me say ow, okay?”

“No way did she hear that,” Casey argued, getting up on one elbow. “It’s safe.”

“Like hell it is,” Chuck whispered.

As if to prove Chuck’s point, another knock rattled the wall directly over the bedframe. It was a smart-ass move, but Chuck raised an eyebrow at Casey and folded his arms over his chest.

“Chuck, I heard you say ow.” Ellie’s voice came out a bit panicky yet awkward, so at least she had an inkling what she might be interrupting. “And I just want to make sure ... well, you haven’t hurt your leg or anything? Do you, um, need me in there?”

Casey held up his index finger and gave Chuck what he had started to secretly call the Glare of Death. “Do not answer her.”

“I have to answer her.”

“Like hell you do – Bartowski -”

“Hey, um, hey El!” Chuck called out, trying to push Casey off of him. Otherwise, his voice may sound like he had a two hundred plus pound man sprawled out on top of him, and that would only further add to her worry. “We’re trying to get the cat off the bed ... and he –” Chuck looked side to side desperately before blurting, “He scratched me! That’s right! Tricky little guy with those claws. Um, you’ve seen them, haven’t you?” Though Ellie was not in the room, Chuck curled the fingers of one hand and scratched at the air. “With the sharp little -”

“Oh, fuck me running,” Casey said, the guttural curse punctuated with a growl at the end. He reached over to the nightstand, blew out the candle, and though it was getting less likely by the second he would need it, Chuck saw him grab the tin of slick before he landed a leg on each side of the kid’s hips.

“But I’m fine, El!” Chuck spoke loud enough to cover the sound of slapping Casey’s hand to get him to drop the tin. Of course, Casey hung on and shot him a dirty look for his efforts. “Really I am – you can go back to sleep now.”

“We are gonna have rules about relatives, Bartowski,” Casey went on in a threatening tone, his eyes promising it. “Rules we will discuss in depth about relatives staying under our roof. And the rules are that you are never to invite anyone in your bloodline. Ever. Hear that? Or anyone who goes by the name Moron -”

“Technically, that’s not his name -”

“Until I’ve authorized it with my say so and given you my written and explicit approval -”

“Not now, Casey,” Chuck hissed up at the exceedingly horny, naked man straddling the kid’s upper thighs. “And by the way, you’re sitting on my bandage, so in case you didn’t notice, now you are hurting me!”

If there were any words, Chuck found, that could make his new husband freeze and then move with vigor, well, he had just stumbled upon them. Right after his partner’s eyes flew open, Casey lifted himself and slid off of Chuck’s legs. Out of habit, he began to check Chuck over in case he was accidently gushing blood from the wound without knowing it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Casey asked.

“I’m telling you now. Besides, when you decided to use me as your Chuck-mattress, I couldn’t even breathe!”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Casey said, only after he confirmed there was no blood.

“My sister has put you in a bit of a mood,” Chuck observed.

“Yeah, and not the one I expected to be in, either, princess. You’re gonna owe me for this.”

Chuck blinked back the images of what he was sure Casey had in mind. “Can’t wait.”

“You and me, both, pancake,” Casey flung back under his breath. Suddenly, he got up from the bed and pushed a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. If the hard-on he was sporting wasn’t distracting him from his thoughts, well, it sure as hell was distracting to Chuck. The flashes of lightning weren’t helping, either. Casey’s tall, muscled frame, only a shadow in the murk, was bathed in bursts of a sudden hot illumination of white before the room turned dark again.

Good going, Mother Nature, for forcing a sexually arousing peep show on him. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Chuck asked, patting the side that was empty,

“No,” Casey replied, and when he reached down to take hold of Chuck’s bicep, the kid felt that stubborn strength and determination flow through this partner’s fingers. “And you need to get your skinny ass out of there, too.”

“What – why?”

“’Cause you’re coming with me.”

“To do what exactly?” Chuck asked, already being pulled out of the bed and landing on his feet.

“Still cute that you have to ask, sunshine.” Casey tugged on his wrist. “Move.”

Chuck went willingly, because when Casey had that look in his eyes, the only other choices were to be dragged or carried. He had no intention of reliving that fun tonight. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We are going, you mean,” Casey told him in a rough tone. “Stop making so much noise.”

“Now you want me to stop making noises? Why couldn’t you think that before we let Ellie hear - hey, where are you taking us?” The kid pulled back as Casey yanked his wrist. The last time he checked, they were both stark naked and rock hard, not something Ellie would appreciate seeing if she stepped out of the room to get a drink or something.

“To get some privacy. So I can get laid,” Casey informed him. “Since your family and friends seemed to be determined to see me die with blue balls the size of Texas.”

Chuck peeked down before he could stop himself. “Um, wow – uncomfortable, but think of it this way. They’re happy for us! They really don’t mean to be annoying.”

“Yet they’re doing such a damn good job of it,” Casey said.

“You haven’t answered the question. Where are you taking me?”

Casey cast a look over his shoulder that demanded he shut up. Keeping Chuck’s wrist in a steel grip, he tugged him right up to Casey’s hard body. With his other hand, he slowly pushed their bedroom door open a crack so that Casey could peer out into the living room. “Stay close.”

“Will I have a choice?”

“No. When I give the signal, move and keep up with me.”

“Something tells me that won’t be problem, either,” Chuck groused, trying to hold up his wrist to demonstrate his displeasure. It stayed put where it was, and if anything, Casey increased the pressure behind the grip. “Again, ow,” the kid said.

“Stop saying that, or your sister’s gonna see something she’d rather not.”

“Any other helpful suggestions?”

“Yeah, try not to trip over those clumsy feet on the way out,” Casey suggested.

Chuck glowered petulantly, but resisted sticking out his tongue until Casey had turned his head. The last thing the man needed was further ideas of what Chuck could do with that appendage.

Casey peeked one more time and held up a finger. Wait. After a half minute of silence, he slanted a look over his shoulder and tipped his head towards the hallway. “Go time,” he mouthed. “Get those legs limbered up – you’re gonna need some dexterity.”

“Wh-what? I’m not going out there like this!”

Casey took a gander downward and returned with a lewd wink. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, kid. Let’s go.”

“Go?! What if someone opens their door?!”

“Try not to wave or act like a virgin. Hate to tell you, kid, but it won’t work this time.” Casey wasted no time arguing or tamping down the mini-rebellion. No, that would be too nice. Instead, he simply swung the door open and used Chuck’s wrist as a handy carrying handle to lug him.

“Wow, great advice, husband!”

“Can it.” Furtively, Casey took one look at the door to the bedroom next to theirs before he turned around, confounding the kid by heading to the kitchen. Chuck tried to keep up – only because that hold on his wrist made sure that he did. “This way.”

“What way? Can you stop doing that? I’m quite capable of following you if you would only let go.” Chuck noticed that Casey had begun pawing through a kitchen drawer. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something,” Casey answered. “Here. This’ll do.”

In his hand was a length of rope.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Chuck began to babble, attempting to twist his arm free. “You are not going to tie that anywhere -”

“Sorry, kid.” Casey tapped him under the chin, smiling slyly. “You won’t be that lucky tonight. Now, shut it.”

“What are we doing here?!”

“Shut it mean something else in that fluffy place between your ears?” Casey asked. “Try to pay attention”.

True, Chuck was having a hard time focusing at that juncture. It had to do with the fact that when Casey swung around, the kid felt something thick and heavy and stiff hit his upper thigh.

“Ow,” Chuck said.

“Ow?” Casey repeated. “You have to stop saying that, kid. It’s like the damn boy who cried -”

“Keep your equipment to yourself?”

“Not the way I remember it.” Casey smirked. “You’ll be saying a hell of a lot more than ‘ow’ soon enough, pancake. Gotta take care of the trespassers first.”

“Okay, you’re holding a rope, so please explain ‘take care of’.” Chuck tried to dig in, but this was just another exercise in futility. More dragging ensued. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you really are a virgin,” Casey said.

“Asshole.”

“Heh. Come on.” Chuck was dragged up to the bedroom door next to theirs. Taking the length of rope, Casey first looped it around one doorknob and then then across to the other, making another loop and pulling it taut. As the kid watched, puzzled as all get out, his lover tied it off in a knot. The last thing he did was give the door a gentle test, and of course it didn’t move an iota. “There. That oughta keep those nosy women out of our way.”

Chuck’s brows drew down. “Trapping them? That doesn’t seem very nice.”

“Yeah? Suppose you think it’s nice that your over-protective big sister could barge in on us. This way, Ellie would have to climb out the window to save your ass - and it’s a two story drop.”

“Two stories? Casey, that’s -”

“The second best damn use of rope you’ve seen? Yeah, I know.” Casey, now in stealth-attack mode, tilted his head and clamped down harder on the kid’s wrist. “This way.”

“This way? Where way?” Chuck tried to root himself to get him to turn around. “Are you going to explain this to me?”

Casey, feeling the resistance, turned to size him up, apparently for portability. “Here’s your explanation: walk or carry, kid. Makes no difference to me. Move it!”

Chuck, deliberating only for a second, allowed himself to be dragged. But where the heck was he taking him?

Dragging him over to the firewood basket next to the fireplace, Casey pawed around in it, and finally picked up a good sized stick with a small fork at the end where the branches had been broken off. “That should do it. Come on,” he ordered, hauling the kid behind him.

Chuck glared at first and then darted a look to the side. Being out in the open like this made him feel a whole new level of vulnerable, something he should’ve been used to by now, but it was still hard.

.... Speaking of hard, why did Casey’s bare ass have to look like a silver dollar could bounce off that baby and hit the dang ceiling? God!

Only a second passed before he heard, “Stop looking at my ass, kid, and pay attention.”

Chuck’s eyes zipped up. “I was doing nothing of the sort.”

“Heh. This way.” It seemed they were headed across the living room towards the back of the house.

Chuck was too busy concentrating on something besides those rounded, muscled ass cheeks to notice the curled-up corner of the rug on the pine floor. “Hey, careful – ow!.”

Thanks to the perfect placement of his boyfriend’s broad back, the kid didn’t fall flat on his face. He smashed his nose between Casey’s shoulder blades.

“Shh!” Casey ordered. “Bartowski, quit messing around!”

“Me?! Why was that my fault?” Chuck blurted as he rubbed his nose.

“If you shut it and be patient for another minute,” Casey said quietly, turning to give an awfully lascivious squeeze to Chuck’s cock, “I will be making it up to you.”

“Watch it,” Chuck said, batting his hand away. “Someone might see you!”

“Only if you keep squealing like a girl to alert them.”

“I’m not squealing – what are you going to do with that stick?”

“Ensure I get a little goddamn privacy,” Casey said, pulling them up to the door of the tiny back bedroom. “Stop.”

Chuck was proud of himself that time. He only slammed into Casey’s back with a little bit of force that time. Maybe the rug he was still dragging slowed him down. “Would you stop doing that?” the kid asked.

“Get rid of that rug, will you?”

“I’m trying,” Chuck told him. After another struggle, he finally kicked it off to the side and squinted into the darkness. “Hey, isn’t this the bedroom where Devon and Morgan are sleeping?”

“Sleeping, pancake?” Casey rolled his eyes. “Trust me, with the ruckus you’re making, they’re wide awake by now. Probably wondering who has the balls to rob my place and why they’re being so damn chatty about it.”

“You know, being interrupted by my sister this morning and now by everyone else has really put you in a mood, husband.”

Casey grunted and pulled him forward, right up to the door. Chuck watched as Casey then jammed one end of the stick up against the edge of the rug and shoved the forked end under the doorknob. Satisfied, he gave it one good kick to wedge it nice and tightly. “Good thinking with the rug, genius. Gives me some leverage. Follow me.”

“Hey, where did you learn that?”

“Sunday school – I was a choirboy. Now get moving.”

“Wow, yeah, sure.”

Chuck stumbled along behind him, trying to keep his eyes up rather than on the pale swell of perfect ass cheeks. Still dragging the kid, Casey led with caution, stopping to pause before slinking through to the next room, his footsteps making no noise as he headed to wherever the heck he was taking them.

The doorway out to the long porch wasn’t locked, Chuck saw a moment later. His partner opened the door, looked up, and deeming it safe for now, yanked the kid out behind him and closed the door.

Chuck goggled at him and put some lean into his frame as he tried to stay close to the door. “This isn’t safe. There’s a storm coming!”

“Glad something is.”

Chuck frowned. “You sound angry.”

“C’mere ....” Casey said, more ease in his voice now that they were outside. Steering him over to the railing, he finally let go of his wrist. “Turn around for me.”

From their vantage point, Chuck could see past the low dunes to the ocean, the storm whipping the waves and thrashing the long grasses like a rippling sea. He felt a hand on his waist, and he was turned around to face Casey with his back pressed to the wooden post. “Why are we out here?”

“You have to ask?” Reaching lower, Casey placed his hand on the kid’s thigh. Heat radiated into his skin. Chuck tried to ignore the fact that if Casey moved his hand a few inches to the right, he would cup his dick so easily in that big palm. “Does that help answer the question?”

“You’re being a little nicer, I noticed,” Chuck said, “now that we’re outside.”

“I plan on being a helluva lot nicer now that we’re alone ... if you’ll let me ....” Casey’s hand slid up over his ribcage, around his back to tickle his spine, up and down. “This better?”

“Much.” Chuck let out a breath and laid a hand on Casey’s shoulder, clenching in to enjoy the firmness of the long muscles there. A second later, he jolted when a crack of thunder barreled across the sky. “Wow – maybe we should –“

“We have a little time here, cupcake,” Casey said, curling a hand around his hip. “You gonna stay?”

Chuck smiled. “Hey, I’m sorry the night had to end like this. I - it was somewhat of a mess today, I know, with my sister and Devon and everything going on -”

“Such as getting married?”

Chuck blushed. “Yes, like that.”

Casey bent his chin and looked at the gold band there on his hand. Lifting his head, he placed his fingers on Chuck’s lips. “Brown eyes, nothing about today was a mess and ... this day isn’t over yet.”

“The storm....” Chuck managed from behind his fingers.

“Shhh,” Casey said. “I know.” Dropping his hand from Chuck’s lips, he took the kid’s fingers in his own and brought it to his lips. He placed kisses along the palm, giving gentle nips with his teeth. When he pulled back, he tilted his head and smirked. “We have some unfinished business, right here where we’re standing. Remember, kid? And I want this day to end with what we started.”

“So with the cat sleeping between us?”

“Funny, cupcake. Yeah, I think you know what I mean.”

Chuck felt a tingle and tried to hide it by running a hand through his hair. The wind had picked up, swirling around the house on stilts. He figured it was only minutes before the downpour would pelt their bare skin with thick drops of rain. “I vaguely recall it,” he admitted, feeling his cock harden with desire.

Casey grinned, unrepentant. “Then maybe you recall that I was getting ready to turn you around and hold you up to that railing,” he rumbled, “and fuck that tight little ass of yours ... until you come all over yourself.”

Chuck looked down, feeling his face turn even redder. “Wow, one of these days you will have to stop beating around the bush. Though your impatience is quite adorable.”

“Eh. Not as adorable as this,” Casey said. Gently, he put a hand on the kid’s chest and pressed him against the post, leaning forward to kiss him. He brushed his lips across Chuck’s, tracing along the seam where he begged Chuck to part them with his tongue, nibbling his bottom lip until he felt the kid open his mouth for him.

The moment Chuck had reflexively complied, Casey’s mouth explored his hungrily, wanting more. The intrusions of the day fell away and suddenly it was just the two of them, as if the thunder claps were miles away and the spider web streaks of lightning stretching across the clouds would hold off their fury until their demands were met.

“You – you should hurry,” Chuck said against Casey’s lips.

“Like I can wait any longer, kid.” With a groan, Casey slid his hands around him, trailing strong fingers across his back before cupping Chuck’s buttocks to hold him close. His tongue coaxed and teased the kid until he returned the kiss by wrapping his arms around Casey’s meaty shoulders and digging his fingers in. Understanding the fervor, Casey smiled against his mouth and slowly rocked Chuck into his erection.

“Feel that, kid? Want it, don’t you? “ he heard Casey breathe. God, did he. It was no secret that he had been ready since this morning, and the delay in gratification had both of them perspiring and rocking into each other’s hard bodies. He felt the stiff arousal rub against his own, and he moaned in pleasure.

Hearing that moan, Casey freed his mouth to go for the vulnerable throat. Chuck found himself automatically throwing his head back to give him access, giving him a view to the sky rolling and tumbling, the outline of clouds flashing to brightness and gone. “C-Casey, the storm ....” Chuck stammered. His hips continued to rock, grind, proving other parts of him were not as worried. “Not ... a lot of time, okay?”

“We have years now, pancake,” Casey chuckled, hot breath in his ear. “Wanna feel your hands on me.”

“I ... can handle that,” Chuck said, flicking a grin at him. He stepped back to put a few inches between their bodies and started in the place Casey didn’t expect. Sliding his hands over Casey’s chest, Chuck lightly touched the springy curls of chest hair, the hard muscles beneath the skin, tracing over contours familiar by now. As the kid tracked a hand too slowly over the muscle and sinew of his husband’s lower ribcage, he paused to explore the line of a few ribs. “Wow. You are still one scary, hard ass, John Casey.”

“And your hands seem to be lost,” he growled.

“Sorry, can’t help it,” Chuck replied with a grin instead of a lick of remorse. Testing, he flicked his thumb across Casey’s nipple, delighting in the shudder he felt racing through the other man’s body. “God, I love your body.”

“Now you’re being a naughty boy,” Casey answered, sounding pleased by that. “Keep going ....” Leaning forward, Casey kissed him again, allowing Chuck’s hands to continue their exploration over his torso, down to his stomach. Casey stroked Chuck’s tongue with his own, long soothing licks that made the kid think of his lover’s lips around his cock last night. God, the man’s tongue .... As Casey tightened his fingers into the kid’s taut buttocks, Chuck couldn’t help but rock back into him, a move Casey had probably intended. He felt the pull in Casey’s body, the ridge of his crown skid along Casey’s length, and oh, crap, that is hot. The kid let out a little whimper of need. Great. Chuck was sure Casey would tease him about that later, but at the moment the rush of wind swirling around them and the burning hot body pressed to his were the only things that mattered.

“Take it,” Casey demanded, lips brushing his temple.

Chuck didn’t need to be told what he meant. Lowering his hand down Casey’s abdomen, he curled his fingers around the shaft, stroking gently base to tip. Casey moaned appreciatively and his eyes slid shut.

“Finally figured it out, eh, kid?” Casey thrust forward, letting Chuck’s fingers give him friction up and down. “Fuck ....”

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” Chuck asked sweetly, knowing Casey would make him pay if he was too much of a smartass. Besides, now that he had his hand on him, Chuck couldn’t deny what it did to him, so he was happy to obey. Mouth suddenly dry, he tightened his hands around his lover’s heavy cock, stroking harder, the rhythmic pumping of his hand mirroring Casey’s thrusting motions.

“Yeah, now you’re catching on,” Casey said, tilting his head to watch his cock get stroked by the kid’s long-fingered hands. “But I didn’t bring you out here for a hand job, princess.”

Chuck grinned. “Okay, are we out here to watch the storm?”

Casey took a small nip at his throat and pulled back to assess him “No. I want to fuck you now.”

“Whoa – um.” The candor could still make him blush, the kid found. “That’s um, wow -”

“Shut it.” Clasping his fingers into the kid’s ass cheeks like he owned them, Casey pulled Chuck right up to his groin as he dragged his warm lips over the kid’s neck. “Turn around.”

“Oh, not ...?”

“No, like this.” Taking Chuck by the arm, Casey angled him around to face the wind-whipped ocean. Not by accident, he also gave the kid a feel of his cock bulging against his hip. “Maybe you forgot, but this morning, I had just finished giving you your punishment for certain transgressions –”

“Are we ever going to settle on a pet name for you –”

“And now you’re gonna get your reward.” Casey trailed his knuckles down the kid’s spine, lower to the curve of his ass, his fingers brushing the top of his buttocks. “You waited long enough, haven’t you?”

“Um, only my reward, huh?” Chuck said, chuckling uncertainly as he hung onto the railing. “I seem to remember it a bit differently after you had - hey, wait a minute – you’re not going to do that again?!”

As Chuck started to stiffen, he felt a hand roll down his butt cheek, clasping and squeezing the firm flesh along the way. “Nah. Reddened that pretty ass enough for one day. If I give you too much of it, it takes away the surprise.” Another squeeze had Chuck jolting. “Mm. You remember anything else about this morning, or do I need to remind you of that, too?”

“What?”

“My cock along your tight crack, kid,” Casey said, and he steered his dick into the cleft of Chuck’s ass, dragging it up and down at little. “Feel that?”

“Y-yes ... that’s, uh, vaguely familiar.” Chuck groaned and closed his eyes at the velvet-stiff heat along his crack. As sensitized as the kid was at this point, it was like receiving another one of those spanks on his ass. He was shocked that thinking of it sent waves of pleasure spiraling through is body in anticipation of Casey coming into him. “And I seem to recollect now where we left off ... before, well –”

“Your sister rode in like an apocalyptic Pestilence?”

“She was warming up to you until you shut the door in her face.”

“And you were warming up to my plan of taking you against the railing,” Casey murmured, one hand drifting up to caress the back of his neck. “Still thinking about it?”

“No. Well, maybe ….”

“Maybe. Heh.” He heard Casey laugh a little, a deep smoky one that tickled his spine. “Is that why you’re already bending over the railing, just by feeling my cock in your crack?”

“I wasn’t bending –”

“No?”

“I was stretching,” Chuck replied. His cheeks flushed when he realized that was precisely how his body reacted even before Casey got out the command. “There’s a difference.”

“Heh. Sure there is,” he said. The hand on the back of Chuck’s neck pressed downward. “Bend a little more over the railing for me ... yeah. Thatta boy .... You want me to find that sweet spot of yours, don’t ya?”

The prod to his crack told the kid Casey wasn’t going to need a map to accomplish that. “Oh. Oh, God. L-listen, Casey – I’d rather not get hit by lightning and have Ellie find us like this tomorrow – this morning was humiliating enough, thanks – so you need to … hurry?”

“Impatient little shit sometimes …. Really want my cock, eh?” Casey’s rumble sounded amused by the fact that Chuck wanted it as badly as he did. The kid heard the lid pop off the tin of slick Casey had swiped off the nightstand. “Get a little lower. Need to see that pretty ass sticking out for me ….”

Chuck did as he was told, resting his elbows on the rail. He felt Casey moving behind him and a moment later, his finger, wet with slick, caressed his ass. The nimble index finger worked at his opening, sliding the tip in and out slowly as Casey prepared him for a much larger penetration.

“Yeah, there you go …. Like that?”

“Oh ... God, Casey ... yeah.” Chuck moaned, pushing backwards clumsily against the movements of Casey’s finger. “That’s ....”

“Opening like a hungry puppy, aren’t you?” Casey prodded him and leaned over to kiss his shoulder blades, warm lips skimming over the perspiration at the back of his neck. “God, I hope you are always this tight for me, kid,” he murmured, obviously aroused by Chuck’s willingness. “Love the way you feel when I’m inside.”

As Casey tangled the fingers of his right hand into Chuck’s hair, he began to pump his other finger into him deeper, picking up steam like the roiling thunder clouds. Chuck’s hands reflexively grasped tighter to the railing. Over and over he felt the press just inside his hole while Casey slid one finger, then two completely inside.

“God, shit, you ....” Chuck heard his voice break. He arched into him, struggled to find the pace of his finger prodding him; then they found a rhythm with each other. “Th-there ….”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s it,” Casey said from behind him, fingers rewarding him with another testing prod. “But you need to do a little better than that, brown eyes .... Wanna tell me what you want?”

Chuck’s unequivocal answer to that question came when he bumped his ass cheek against Casey’s shaft and let him feel the drag back and forth a few times. “Fffuck, Casey. Do it ... want to ... wanna feel you there,” Chuck managed, feeling his ears burn. “H-hard, J-john ….” Wow, that was specific. He then slammed his eyes shut and suppressed a shiver at the hungry things he wanted from his husband.

Casey growled at the admission and showed his approval by laying his teeth into the back of Chuck’s shoulder. “Whatever you want, long legs,” he told him, and there was no question what he would feel next. After a few more prods, coupled with dragging his long dick over the kid’s crease, he moaned low in his throat and put one hand around Chuck’s shoulder. Holding his upper body down over the railing and keeping easy access to his ass, he surprised the kid by increasing the pressure. Now Chuck could hardly budge at all. A position of dominance, it controlled the kid’s movements, leaving him feeling a little helpless to do anything but keep his ass up for his partner. A second later, the kid felt him push his knees further apart. “Yeah, good boy …,” Casey whispered, thumb grazing his neck, “want it so badly ….”

Chuck opened his mouth to say something – God, knows what – when suddenly Casey grabbed his hip with this other hand and fulfilled his order, sliding his shaft gradually into Chuck’s body.

“Oh … oh, God,” Chuck murmured. Not able to move, he rested his forearm on the railing and laid his head down on it, looking off to the side at the vast dunes and lightning but not really seeing anything. Feeling everything. Chuck could only concentrate on the slide of Casey’s cock in his body, leisurely and deep, the railing beginning to rock against their combined weight and thrust.

“So good, so fucking good,” Chuck heard himself mumble. “Please … yeah ….”

“Always like the way you ask me, kid ….” Casey’s voice was barely audible over the breathing and steady creaking of the rail, but he sounded like he was ready to forgive Ellie any minute now. “Like me in your tight little ass, pancake? Filling you, or do you need more?”

“Crapcrapcrap ….” Chuck wanted to yell and whine and tell him he could make it harder, but who knew how hard Casey really could push him right now, and with the ground looming twenty feet down, maybe the big guy didn’t need that kind of encouragement. “Oh, yeah, just like that .... God, yeah ...” Chuck panted, the words and sounds pushed out with the force of Casey fucking him. “That’s it ... keep - keep going just like that – mph!”

“Right there, eh? Anything else you need from me?” Casey asked in a chuckle as he fucked harder into Chuck, short little thrusts from behind, “or is this gonna do it for you ..? ‘Cause I wanna give you what you want, kid.”

“Y-yes ... there ... shit.”

“Need a little more, Chuck?” Casey didn’t wait for an answer, because God knows he wasn’t going to get one. A coherent one, anyway. So wasting no time, Casey buried himself in the tight passage of Chuck’s ass, groaning against the kid’s back. “Jesus … tight,” Casey whistled between his teeth. “Christ, yeah ….”

The railing rocked at each thrust. Chuck bit down on his hand, but the little whimpers were pumped out of him anyway.

“Feeling me fuck you hard?” Casey pulled out slowly, his hand working along the kid’s stiff dick, stroking him from balls to crown. “Yeah, that’s it ….” He thrust again, a little harder each time, settling into a mind-numbing rhythm of give and take that left Chuck finding it hard to breathe, only able to gasp out little sounds that had to please Casey to no end. God, his lover filled him until he thought he would burst in a million directions, kind of like the flashes of lightning all around them.

“Casey ….” Chuck used the railing to get leverage, and found his body acting on its own volition by pushing back onto his cock. “Oh, man ….” Holy shit. The kid’s eyes flew open and he blinked out over the water, wondering if Casey could go any deeper without stripping his insides raw.

“Easy, cupcake,” Casey said, groaning a little at finding himself buried to the hilt. Chuck felt the big hand curl around his nape, an effective restraint to keep him from backing up anymore. “I like you enthusiasm, sport, I do, but if you keep doing that, you may be limping for another reason tomorrow.” He added in a snicker, “Heh. Don’t wanna be there when you explain that to her….”

“Jerk,” Chuck mumbled, trying to shake off the hold, but no dice. Casey’s hand was like a giant trap. He wasn’t going anywhere, let alone drive back on his cock again. He had no control, he could only stay still – maybe squirm a bit – and let Casey fuck him at the pace he chose. And his husband chose to give him blunt little thrusts this time, not as deep, but riding him like a colt ten lengths from the finish line.

“Fuck … right there,” Casey ground out. “That’s it, kid … let me show you ….”

“Ohohohohshit,” Chuck moaned out. Right then, the first drops of rain begin to slap his skin. Casey settled into his homestretch rhythm, smacking his groin against Chuck’s ass. The exquisite drawing and thrusting of their bodies made the kid’s world go narrow instead of wide, down to the slide of fingers on his dick and the deep strokes that hit a place that put sparks in front of his eyes.

With his face buried in the crook of Chuck’s neck, Casey whispered, “That storm is close ... so close, kid. Hear that? Gonna come for me?”

“... just – y-yes ....”

“Like to hear that, pancake, because your tight little ass is begging for me to fill it.”

“Shi – eeemph.” Well, that noise would make him happy, Chuck reckoned. The tight little thrusts combined with the pumping of Casey’s hand made his body clench in one long, lean line of muscle, as if the next crack of lightning would shatter him if it hit the ground anywhere near them. “Casey ... yes .... that,” Chuck gasped, wanting to push back so badly, but Casey’s hand on his neck refused to budge. “Can’t ... need you to ... fuck.”

“Love it when you tell me, kid.” Casey leaned over him, wrapping his arm around Chuck’s chest to hold him in place. It gave him even more leverage to fuck him against the railing without the kid being able to move, Chuck realized, but it didn’t matter anymore. “Like that sound, puppy …. Heh. Knew I could get you to talk tonight.”

“Oh, G-god, God, God,” Chuck babbled in time with each thrust. There was no waiting. He was going to come. The kid sucked in a breath while his balls drew tightly against his body, the now-familiar tingling starting along the base of his spine and straight to his cock.

“Come, puppy …,” Casey whispered into his ear, urging him on.

“Gonna ... oh man oh man oh man ....” While the next slap of thunder rattled the ground beneath them to the rafters above, and rain sluiced down his body, Chuck slammed his eyes shut and hung on to the railing, feeling his cock twitch – and he was unable to hold back. Trembling, he began to spew into Casey’s hand and the sand below and maybe on the post, because he was a terrible aim and that didn’t matter much, either.

“There you go ... all for me ....” Casey coaxed him along with hot drags over his cock and warm bourbon-laced breath on his neck. “Yeah, that’s it, kid. Show me how much you love taking cock ....”

“D-dammit, Casey ....” Chuck tried to shove back – yeah he would show him if Casey only would let him, but with Casey’s chest pressed to his back, he wasn’t going anywhere. Casey’s dick kept up with the short pokes while the tide crashed around them, the tempest drawing them into the storm. “God, yes ....”

He felt Casey stiffen behind him. A long, low masculine growl filled his ears as his partner buried himself and stayed there. “Good boy, love the way you ask for it,” he said, low. “I wanna give you what you want ....” He paused, groaning and only pumping once, twice, slow and languid. Casey was coming for him now, taking his sweet-ass time to revel in the release. “Yeah, filling your ass ... feel that?”

He did. God, did he. Chuck leaned weakly against the railing and lowered his forehead to rest on his hands. His heart thumped against his chest like run-away horse hooves. “Oh … oh, wow ….mphg …..” There was no difference between the sweat and rain that covered them. They were soaked by now.

“You okay, cupcake?” Casey asked between kisses on the back of his shoulders.

Chuck let out a shaky laugh. “Besides not being able to walk? Um, yes, that was ... incredible.”

“Eh, I’ve had better,” Casey replied, bumping into him one more time. “But you’re still just a young colt, kid. We’ve got plenty of time to get you trained-up right nicely.”

Chuck pushed back the wet curls plastered to his forehead and turned his head to squint at him. “You know, you’re lucky that I’ve caught onto your sense of humor, husband. Otherwise you and the cat would be sleeping together on the sofa tonight.”

Casey chuckled softly and clasped his palm over Chuck’s left ass cheek in a possessive gesture. Bending over him, his teeth lightly grazed the side of his neck, claiming him, marking him, and Chuck immediately relaxed into his body. All around them, the rain pelted down now, the pounding against the roof a counterpoint to the stillness between the two men. It would go on, too. The sky promised a thrashing, tempestuous night, perfect for lovers.

“Easy, kid, hold your breath for a second.” Casey shifted over him and dropped another love bite under his ear, then nipping his earlobe.

“What? Why – ah.”

That explained it. Casey pulled out of the kid’s body, leaving that emptiness. At the same time, a bolt streaked over the clouds and thunder boomed.

“Hurt?” Casey asked.

“Geez, no – but whoa .... did you see that?” Chuck got up on one elbow and looked at the sky. A streak of lightning seemed to hit the water, sending a shimmering trail over the waves. “It’s getting closer.”

“Time to get inside, pancake. We don’t need your sister finding our two charred bodies in the sand.”

“Ellie would be really angry with you for that, by the way.”

“Smart ass. Come on.” Entwining his hand with the kid’s, he pulled him through the doorway and into the living room. The orange dying embers in the fire were the only thing lighting their way. That and the heat from Casey’s body. They padded silently across the floor, water running down their bodies and leaving puddles of foot prints. “You get the towels. They’re in the linen closet by our bedroom. I’ll go release the prisoners.”

“That means we’re going to have to let go of hands,” Chuck said, shaking the fingers twined with Casey’s. “Count of three, okay? One, two, three.” The kid looked down, but neither had let go. When he looked up, he shot a smile at Casey. “Should we try again?” Though they’d never really let go, he realized. Never again.

“Lemme do this first.” Casey pressed a hard kiss to the top of Chuck’s shoulder before finding his mouth, giving him another taste before pulling away. “Now go,” he said.

Chuck flashed his grin again and fumbled around a bit in the dark, but managed to find a few towels between the sheets and table linens. Padding back to their bedroom, he threw one towel on the bed for Casey and walked over to the rug to drip there.

As he turned around, Casey eased into the room like the stealthy criminal he used to be. “Sleeping like babies, all of them,” Casey said quietly.

“Thank God. Your towel is on the bed.” Chuck motioned, but before drying off with his own towel, he shook his head as hard as he could. Droplets flew from the wet curls in every direction. Satisfied, the kid began to dry himself off.

Watching him, Casey pulled up short, his eyes traveling up and down Chuck’s lanky, naked body. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Drying off?” Chuck cocked his head at him. “Problem?”

“Hell, yeah, there’s a problem,” Casey replied. He strode over and took the towel from the kid’s hands. Looking around, he spotted the other on the bed and handed it to Chuck. “You do your job. I do my job.”

Taking the hint, Chuck suppressed a smile and gladly got to work. He took one appreciative look and dragged the towel over the hard planes of Casey’s chest, down over his abs, up over his thick arms. This was his husband. All his. He could hardly believe it. Still, he couldn’t let on that he was a bit overwhelmed by it all. Chuck cleared his throat and brought his eyes up to meet Casey’s. “You were right. Your plan was much better than mine.”

“Stand still.” Casey returned the favor, rubbing the towel between his pecs, down to his flat belly. “Helluva little body, kid ....” he murmured, dropped a warm kiss on his shoulder. “You’ll do, puppy ... ready to hit the sack?”

“Um, no, your legs.”

“My legs?”

Chuck smiled over at him and got down on his haunches. Of course, they looked good enough to bite when Casey was wearing blue jeans, but his lover’s legs were miles more gorgeous like this instead, wet and bare and long. “Mm. Husbandly duty and all.”

“Better get the other side while you’re down there, brown eyes,” Casey told him. Shifting around, he stood still for him, waiting.

“Not bad.” Chuck tried not to think about how good the man’s ass looked ... or how badly he wanted to nibble him right there. That would lead to more trouble tonight, and the kid was already flat-out exhausted.

Besides, they had a lifetime ahead of them now, maybe to explore each other’s secrets along the journey.

Chuck finished drying him off and held still for Casey to do his legs next. And one other place he had apparently missed, one that made Chuck suck in a breath and close his eyes. “Oh, you are in so much trouble if you keep going ....”

“Tomorrow,” Casey said, grinning as he tossed both towels on the chair in the corner. “C’mere, kid.” Smoothly, his husband pulled him up to his body, giving Chuck a feel of the sturdiest man Fate could bring him, and then he leaned forward to kiss him. Picking up one of Chuck’s hands, he laced their fingers together. “Did you … get your answer today?” Casey asked. They both knew what he meant.

Chuck rolled his eyes good-naturedly and settled his chin on the sculpted muscles of Casey’s shoulder. He felt one hand tunnel into the hair at his nape. “Here’s a secret, big guy,” Chuck replied sleepily, a slow glide of one hand caressing Casey’s spine. “I already knew the answer.”

-x-

“So, can I assume that charming, guttural sound means oui: you will be passing through St. Louis in the spring?” Sabine inquired, slinging her pack over her shoulder. It kept company with her long rifle, which Chuck expected was locked and loaded for the train trip. “I can expect you at the ... ranch in April?”

Chuck took a moment to thank God that Sagebrush Ranch sounded like a place where horses, rather than whores, frolicked. It would sound much better in the event Ellie overheard it. “Yes, of course.” Chuck gave Casey the side-eye. “We’ll be there. That grunt was a number forty-seven: it means yes, and stop bugging me about it.”

“It means stop bugging the piss out of me about it.” Casey settled a hand on Chuck’s waist, his fingers casually catching inside the waistband of his jeans. “The kid needs some training before he gets it right. But yes, we’ll be there.”

“We’ll send you a letter,” Chuck added. “Try not to have Luciana burn it, okay?”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “I should warn you, she’s a decent shot herself and still doesn’t see the humor in it.” Her mouth became serious. “She blamed herself for separating you two.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Chuck said quickly. “But tell her to stop blaming herself.” He shifted closer into Casey’s body, his arm sliding around his waist, responding to his lover’s hold by hooking a few fingers into the belt loop of Casey’s jeans. He glanced at Casey and then smiled at Sabine. “Things... worked out okay for us. Let her know that.”

“Hey, wait, man. What about Kiowa?” Morgan gave them a baffled look. “I mean, this place is great,” and he motioned towards the house, a gesture that made them look up from where they stood on the path to the cottage on wide, wooden stilts. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you two love birds are gonna be happy here - but please tell me you will be back.”

“First stop, St. Louis,” Chuck said, nodding, “then on to the booming metropolis of Kiowa -”

“To visit your buddy and partake in the coffee can shoot-out to end them all! It will be epic, dude!”

Next to him, he heard his new husband growl. Or groan in pain. It was difficult to distinguish.

“Ah-hem.” Chuck used his hold on Casey’s jeans to discreetly pinch into the delicate flesh at his hip. “That means, yes, we’ll be there.”

Morgan raised a brow at Casey, so Chuck had to bet his best friend picked up on the correct translation. “Okay, then.” The little man adjusted his pack, shoved his slingshot into his belt, and shook his head helplessly. “Wow. This is it, I guess.”

“For now,” Chuck corrected.

“Oh, heck.” With a little sound caught in his throat, Morgan launched himself onto Chuck, latching himself around his best friend’s middle with his stubby legs and clinging for dear life.

“Morgan – please,” Chuck said uncomfortably, attempting to peel him off. The fact that Morgan’s shoulders began to shake was probably just a laugh and not the tears he suspected. God, he hoped not at least.

“I’ll miss you, man,” Chuck heard Morgan say against his shirt. “It won’t be the same there without you, but I know you’ll make it back.”

“Morgan, Morgan.” Chuck looked around desperately, and seeing he was trapped, returned the hug with almost as much fervor. Without the leg-wrap, however, because that would defy gravity. “I’m going to miss you, too, little buddy. But the Clan of Urquhart will be reunited soon. April, I promise.”

Casey slanted a look over at him. “The Clan of Urquhart?” he mouthed.

“Just go with it,” Chuck mouthed back, “and no, you do not want to know.”

“And remember, dude, please bring your muscly manwich for the mercantile restock season.”

Chuck smiled and flared his eyes in humor at Casey over the top of Morgan’s head. “He’ll be happy to help you in any way. I promise,”

“Eh.” Casey pointed a dirty look at the back of Morgan’s head and folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“Oh, sorry.” Morgan let go, climbed down, and straightened his wool vest. “You can have him back now, Casey.”

“Not yet,” Sabine said. “He’s mine first. I see through your pathetic attempt to avoid goodbye - and a hug,” she directed at Casey right before she gave him a hug Ellie would be proud of. “I know you mean well, Johnnie, and you can’t stop being a hard ass even if you tried, but if you don’t put your arms around me and hug me back, I’m going to knee you in the groin. Comprend, mon ami?”

“Um, Casey, that would be very upsetting. To both of us,” the kid added. Grinning, he motioned with his head, ‘go on, do it. Or else.’

Casey’s eyes narrowed at Chuck suspiciously, or maybe at the fact that it was kid giving silent orders now. “Yeah, sure,” he replied. It baffled Chuck how he could make acquiescence sound like a threat, but he managed. “What the kid says.”

Sabine laughed. “I know what this is about. After last night’s little demonstration of l’amour, my friend feels like it’s time to reassert his masculinite, oui?”

“Shut it, woman,” Casey said.

“Come on, Casey. Hug her. We’re waiting, sweetie.”

Uh-oh. Oh, crap.

Casey’s head swung around. The glower of a second ago was wiped away, replaced by a smart ass smirk. “Starting the count again, kid?”

“What count?” Sabine asked.

“Never mind,” Chuck told her. “Casey. Hug.”

“Fine, let’s get it over with, then,” Casey said, making meaningful, amused eye contact with Chuck over Sabine’s head. Giving in, he wrapped those thick arms around the willowy woman and held her close to his chest. Though Casey would never admit it, Chuck could see it plain as day, the way he breathed in the scent of her hair, stamping it in his memory, saying goodbye for now probably with his heart pounding against her.

Then he closed his eyes and whispered something Chuck couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made a slight smile twist her lips. She lifted on her toes and said something back to him, and Chuck swore Casey’s arms wrapped a bit tighter around her.

When they broke the hug, Chuck noticed Sabine was blinking a lot, and even Casey blinked twice and looked away. “Your turn, mon ami adorable,” Sabine said, and immediately she pulled Chuck into a relieved hug. “I still can’t believe he found you again, but only my Johnnie could do it. He never gives up.”

“I have noticed that about him,” Chuck tried to joke, but when Sabine pulled back, all levity had died away, replaced by a solemn sincerity.

“You take good care of him,” she leaned in to tell him. “I know he will never admit he has the same needs as us mere mortals, oui? But he does. He needs the man that he loves ... to watch over him.”

Chuck just swallowed. “I’ll do my best.”

Sabine reached up to ruffle his hair, laughing when he tried to flinch away. “See you in April.”

“And hopefully, the greeting will be slightly different than the last time. Maybe with the threat of fewer bullets? Oh, hey. Here’s a rule of thumb: how about nothing that would make me want to crap my pants in front of Casey.”

“You take the fun out of it, kid,” Sabine said.

“Sweet cheeks here has no tolerance for guns,” Casey admitted, and Chuck felt a hand settle on his lower back. “Something we’re gonna work on.”

Chuck peered over at him with a questioning look, but yes, Casey was serious. The kid wondered if he would have to explain to his husband that this would mean Chuck would actually have to touch his guns.

“Well, we should go.” Sabine looked past her shoulder to the waiting buggy. “Where are the doctors?”

“The last time I saw them, Devon was helping Ellie with her bag,” Morgan offered. “Should I go get them?”

Chuck looked over in time to see Sabine and Casey exchange a glance. It was something the kid had witnessed before, how the longtime friends had an unspoken language, but that look was just confusing. “No, that’s okay.” The kid rubbed his hands together. “You stay put. I’ll go up and get them.”

“Your leg,” Sabine said.

“Is fine,” Chuck stressed. “This will be a good opportunity for me to show Ellie she has nothing to worry about.”

Before someone could stop him, Chuck turned and clambered a bit awkwardly up the stairs that led to the porch. Stopping at the door that led into the kitchen, he reached for the handle and gave a little ‘hang on’ wave to the waiting travelers before pushing the door open.

The kitchen was empty, same as the living and dining room. He opened his mouth to call out to Ellie, but something made him stop mid-breath. Soft voices drifted from the bedroom where Sabine and Ellie had stayed the night before.

“Strange,” Chuck said to himself. “Ellie’s never let a man in her room before ... has she?”

Chuck began to edge cautiously towards the bedroom until a voice in his head told him not to be a dick about it. The least he could do was announce his arrival.

“Ellie, are you there?” he called out, stomping as loud as he could. “Hey, the others are waiting, and you have a train to – oh.” As he reached the bedroom doorway, the kid halted in his tracks. His eyes shifted side to side. Only vaguely did he catch a glimpse of his sister pulling away from the tall doctor and flying backwards to get her bag.

“Oh, um -!” Ellie stammered.

“H-hey, hey … bro.” Devon was also stammering.

Chuck looked from one guilty face to the other. “Hi there ... Devon. Ellie. Everything okay here?”

“Great, great. Just – ah – helping your sister with her bags.” The good doctor appeared a bit ruffled, Chuck noticed, as he smoothed the front of his jacket and squared his shoulders. “You know how those valises can be tricky, getting everything inside.”

“Tricky,” Ellie repeated. “Very tricky.”

“Indeed.” Chuck repressed a smile. If she thought putting on her straw hat would divert him from spying her red face, well, good luck with that, big sis. Devon really was sparking on his sister, and she certainly seemed reciprocal to the arrangement.

As he studied them curiously, his sister followed Devon towards the door. “I think my other bag is already in the buggy,” Ellie said. “We should go.”

“Sure. Let me hold the door for you,” Devon said.

“Um, Devon?” Chuck asked, stopping him.

“Yeah, bro?”

The kid lifted his brows and tilted his head towards the luggage on the floor. “Might wanna grab that before we go. Just saying.”

Devon jolted. “Oh, hey, hey. Yes, one bag, coming right up,” he said, flashing a perfect row of teeth at Ellie. “Better get going. After you, Miss Ellie.”

“Um, thank you. Devon,” she answered primly.

Chuck stood off to the side to let them squeeze by. As soon as they passed him, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and beamed a huge grin. Busted, sis.

“How did you get up the stairs, anyway?” Ellie shot a look over her shoulder at him.

“I flew.”

“Hah. Not yet, little brother.” She stepped out onto the porch and held the door for Devon and then Chuck to pass. “Are you better?”

Chuck noticed his new husband waiting at the base of the stairs and smiled over at her. Thinking about what lay ahead made his stomach tingle to no end. “Every day, El. It only gets better.”

“It does.” Ellie reached up and patted his chest. “We’ll go first. In case you trip.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Chuck gave her a droll look. “What? No net at the bottom to catch me?”

“You have Casey.” Ellie squeezed one arm and let go, briefly pursing her lips as she thought about it. “He’s your net now.”

Chuck shifted his gaze to the side to see Casey looking up. He hadn’t heard, but he was watching them very carefully. “Thanks,” the kid told her. “For knowing that.”

Ellie just nodded, her eyes beginning to brim. “Meet you down there. And it’s not goodbye. Remember that. I’ll be back in a month or so.” She looked out over the vast water before meeting his eyes. “For good this time.”

Chuck swallowed hard and waited for them to get halfway down before he took the stairs gingerly behind her. Now would not be the time to do anything that would cause him to end up in a full body cast courtesy of Ellie.

Rather than his sister, though, it was Casey catching his arm at the bottom of the stairs. It must’ve taken restraint not to meet him halfway and lug him down over that brawny back, but he respected the kid’s wishes and stood somewhat impatiently and tense for Chuck to finally join them on the sand path.

“You two coming into town anytime soon?” Devon turned to ask.

According to Casey, that would be negative. His lover seemed to have plans for the next two weeks or so that involved lack of clothing and sullying every surface of the cottage.

Wisely, Chuck kept silent on that matter and only gave Devon a puzzled look. “I’m sure we will. Why?”

“Um, listen, bro,” Devon said, his voice lowering as he looked past his shoulder. “There’s something I need to discuss with you in private. Man to man.”

“Well, um, yeah. Sure, of course.” Chuck had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. He managed to pull it off by stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Dinner. Maybe one night next week? Heck, I have to pick up the rest of my things anyway.”

Devon’s relieved smile blossomed. “Awesome,” he said, clapping Chuck on the shoulder with more force than necessary. The kid swayed and let out a cough. Devon, who didn’t seem to notice, simply gave a herky-jerky nod and waved. “See you then, bro.”

Ellie came up behind Devon. “Um, Doctor Woodcomb, can you take my valise to the buggy while I say good-bye to my brother?”

“Sure thing, El – Miss.” Devon bobbed his head with more awkwardness and scurried off to the buggy where Morgan and Sabine were already waiting.

Ellie bit down on her lip pulled at the collar of her jacket. “I hate this.”

“Why? This isn’t good-bye, sis,” Chuck said firmly before she could say otherwise. “You’ll be back in a month. No need to make this dramatic or – oooff.”

Ellie sprang at him so fast that, had he not planted his feet, he would’ve stumbled backwards and taken her with him. Her arms went around him, and she squeezed in typical Ellie fashion. Which meant Chuck went from being able to breathe and move to having his body trapped like a rabbit in a foxhole. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“I’ll miss you, too, El.” He honestly would, too. It was as if a tiny bit of his heart would be ripped out, but it was only temporary, he told himself, and he was in good hands until then. Naughty hands, but okay, they were well-intentioned.

“I’ll be back in a month, once I put my affairs in order and ... speak to father. You be good until then, baby brother.”

Next to him, he heard a small yet explicit grunt from Casey. Roughly translated, Chuck heard ‘your sweet kid brother will be good for me. Yeah, I’ll make sure of it.’

“It will fly by. Honestly, it will be as if you never left.”

“Oh, hell ....” Casey said under his breath.

“Soooo – oh.” Chuck rocked back on his heels. There was a moment of surprise when his back hit the familiar terrain of his husband’s rock-hard chest. Apparently, Casey had taken advantage of Chuck finally being released by Ellie to come up behind him. A pair of arms the size of logs came around him, one circling his chest, the other looped over his waist. Wasting no time, Casey then brought Chuck right up into his body, tightening his arms to hold him there.

Not that he had any thoughts of leaving the most comfortable spot he knew, but still, the kid recognized it as a power play move if there ever was one. His new husband was protecting his boundaries in a hold that spoke volumes. Who belonged where ... and maybe to whom now.

Chuck felt Casey’s breath along his nape, the heat off his skin surrounding him, something that usually made the kid close his eyes and melt backwards. Soon enough, he figured. But now, something made him glance over at the wagon. “The train, El. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Morgan and Sabine will miss their departure if you don’t get on the road.”

“The kid’s right,” Casey said, drawing his arms around him more securely until Chuck had to suck in a breath, “You should get going.”

Ellie gave Casey an intent look and moved in front of Chuck – and by proxy, Casey. With the hold he enforced around the kid, it was impossible to tell where the anatomy of one man ended and the other began.

“Mr. Casey.” Ellie paused to pull on her white gloves with deliberate meticulousness, not taking her eyes off the man. “I’ve noticed that you have a natural talent for doctoring. Chuck said you’ve taken care of his injuries before – and, no, I don’t want to hear the details.”

“I have.” Casey brought one hand up Chuck’s ribcage, scrubbing lightly over the shirt and purposely keeping his hand over Chuck’s. “Let’s just say doctoring can come in handy in my line of business.”

“Another topic I could live without hearing,” she answered, tugging the last finger in place. “Ever. I bring this up because my brother will still need someone to keep an eye on those injuries -”

“Sis, really? I told you -”

“He’ll need someone to change the bandage twice a day,” Ellie said, ignoring Chuck, “and to keep the area around the wound clean. Not to mention to remove the sutures when it appears the laceration is healing. That should be -”

“Within the next two days, I reckon,” Casey filled in for her. He could feel Casey straighten, dragging one hand down to rest on Chuck’s hip. “Unless he stresses the laceration, but I’ll be the judge of that.”

There was a hesitation as Ellie considered it. “Yes, I see.” Her hazel eyes traveled down to the arms wrapped tightly around her brother, and finally back up to settle on Casey’s. “Within two days should suffice.”

“Anything else?”

“He spent too much time on his feet yesterday. He needs to rest.”

“Ellie, while you make an excellent point,” Chuck broke in again, and he would’ve lifted his arms to fend her off if he could move to get free, “I did not overdo it. Heck, I – I could’ve danced at my own wedding. Really.”

“I know that, too,” Casey said, answering Ellie and ignoring the kid. “He’s favoring the left leg when he walks.”

“I married a traitor,” Chuck noted, turning to give him a look.

“Good, then you know he needs to spend the next few days in bedrest to recover,” Ellie replied to Casey.

For a second, Chuck’s brows flew up until he realized Ellie was watching him. And he could feel rather than hear his lover’s deep chuckle rumbling along his back. Bed, yes, rest, hell no.

“Exactly my thoughts,” Casey agreed, somehow managing to keep a straight face. Nothing like getting permission from the big sister. “I’ll make sure he stays flat on his back for a few days.”

Or stomach, knees, haunches, and any other acrobatic permutations Casey had in mind, the kid guessed.

Chuck could only sigh, because ... he really wasn’t going to mind it at all.

“El, I hate to break up the party,” Chuck said, “but they are getting ready to leave without you.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “You’re right. See you soon, baby brother.” Her smile was bright, but it came with the all too familiar glistening sheen in her eyes. Patting his cheek, she then focused on Casey. “You, too,” she said, and patted Casey’s cheek next. “Take care of each other, okay?”

“We will, sis. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Ellie stepped away from them, blew a kiss, and turned her back, headed towards the buggy. Once she settled in next to Devon, she waved, and the men watched as Devon urged the horses into a trot.

“Wow. I am going to miss her for the next month,” Chuck said. Relaxing back into Casey, he turned his head and accidently bumped his cheek on Casey’s nose. “Oh, sorry.” He smiled self-conciously and focused on Casey’s eyes, so close and full of mischief. “So, now what?”

“You have to ask?” Casey used the hold on the kid’s hip to spin him around. “Come on,” he said.

“Um, upstairs? Now?" Chuck, with his arms now semi-free, took advantage of the opportunity to place his hands low on Casey’s waist and gave him a smile he hoped was debonair and not idiotic. “I could be talked into it.”

“Don’t know where your filthy mind is, kid, but I was talking about going for a little swim in the ocean.”

Chuck studied that innocent face and gaped. “Whoa. You are good. You managed to say that with a straight face.”

“Actually, pancake, you might have a point,” Casey agreed, giving it away with a smirk. Chuck felt one hand slide lower, past his shirt, down to the back of his jeans, and over the kid’s firm backside to give him a squeeze. “I was hoping it’d be like the ones we used to have ... in your creek back at the farm.”

Chuck blushed at the memory, almost able to feel the grass tickling his back, wet and cool skin against his. “Oh, thank God,” he said. “I was kind of hoping that would be the case.”

“Don’t you sound greedy,” Casey said in a low voice, his hand moving over to the right buttock to cup it. And being greedy himself, Casey pulled the kid right up to the front of his jeans, and oh, yeah, that confirmed it. They really were talking about the same thing if that stiff dick lined up to his meant anything.

“Really, I was trying not to be that obvious,” Chuck said.

“Stop trying. They’re gone.” Casey lifted one hand to take his jaw, and leaning in further, he kissed him. As Chuck’s lips were coaxed open, his tongue was seduced into an erotic game of push and slide, give and take that had his stomach coiling. When he would’ve deepened the kiss, Casey pulled back, leaving his palm on the side of Chuck’s neck, this thumb sweeping up and down the soft curve of it, just caressing the pulse.

“Any more of that, and we won’t make it to the ocean for that dip I promised you,” he said. He cupped the side of Chuck’s head, his fingers sliding into the thick messy curls, capturing loose waves and stroking. “And I really wanna get you wet right now.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Chuck answered, at first nodding his head and then shaking it vigorously, his eyes filled with his best pleading look. “Would we?”

“Christ, you really are going to kill me,” Casey muttered, chuckling to himself. Then he smiled, sexy and slowly. “On the way to the beach ... why don’t you tell me what else you were thinking of doing ... or maybe you can just show me.”

“I would race you, but, well, you know. The leg?”

“Well, I would carry you, but I know you don’t like me doing it.” Eyeing him only for a moment, Casey lowered his arms and scooped the kid off his feet like he was nothing. “Good thing I don’t give a shit about that. Let’s go.”

Chuck tried to look mad, but it was impossible, so he settled on wrapping his arms around Casey’s neck and holding on. His smile turned genuine. “I think I’m ready this time. Ready for anything.” Now they could get on with the details of being a family, all the pieces coming together and ready to take flight. To the place their dreams could carry them.


	33. Epilogue

Where the Road Ends

-x- Epilogue –x-

His pants were still on the windowsill when he woke.

It was just another sign to the kid that Casey took his ‘husbandly duties’ seriously, very seriously. The man he married had equal parts resourcefulness and endurance. But Chuck was safe in those big hands. Casey could hold silvery wisps of a dandelion seed head in his palm when he wanted to be that gentle.

As Chuck’s mind wandered over last evening’s activities, he felt a comfortable heat rise on his neck. His morning wood also responded – thanks, brain, for the reminder – and he stretched his legs just to enjoy the feel of that.

What time was it, anyway? Chuck hadn’t expected to sleep this late, as he never slept in as a Harvard student or as a solitary settler in Kiowa. Still, the angle of the sunlight filtering through the gingham curtain gave him an inkling it was well past nine o’clock. He had slept deeply, something he was getting used to, because that kind of slumber had never worked for him until he found the right pair of arms to climb between.

Now, he barely remembered moving after the ... nightly horizontal calisthenics.

Chuck rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around. On the pillow next to him was a striped Maine Coon cat who had filled out quite nicely in the past month.

The kid grumbled at him, but only because he expected a much larger and slightly less furry bedmate this morning. “Have you seen your other daddy?” he asked. His voice sounded rusty, so he cleared his throat.

Buddy flipped a tail over Chuck’s face, the fur getting stuck in a bit of dark stubble on his cheek.

“Ick. Thank you for that.”

Pushing the bushy tail away, he dragged a hand through his curls and stretched down to his toes. The kind of ache that involved taking a bullet to one of his appendages had stopped bothering him two weeks ago By now, the only twinge in his muscles came from the familiar exertion that he wasn’t going to complain about.

“Fine, I’ll find him myself,” Chuck told the cat. “Let’s hope he made coffee.” Reluctantly climbing out of the warm bed, he opened a dresser drawer and rummaged around until he found a clean shirt and jeans. On the floor, he spotted the shoes Ellie had bought for him, but after giving it a quick thought, he decided to stay barefoot. The kid knew they would just get in the way.

Shoving his arms through the sleeves, Chuck looked in the mirror, tilting his head to peruse a two-day old love bite on his neck. He had fallen into the habit of leaving his shirt unbuttoned. The same rule applied to the top button of his jeans. There was no sense wasting effort when Casey would only peel him out of both articles of clothing, probably before lunch. The kid found that his husband seemed to prefer keeping him in various stages of undress, something Chuck wasn’t complaining about since his lover had adopted a similar practice. Chuck just never knew when the mood would strike.

And it did strike often, thank God. Even in the most harmless situation ever, Chuck was discovering. Take, for example, two nights ago. They had just finished supper when Casey strolled right up to Chuck’s chair with that look in his eyes. Within a heartbeat, Chuck found himself sitting on the pine table while Casey kneed the kid’s thighs apart and helped himself to dessert.

Face facts. It was hard to argue propriety at the dinner table when his dick was in Casey’s mouth.

A month had passed since the marriage on the beach. The honeymoon period had no sign of stopping just yet, though Chuck figured eventually they’d have to go back into town for supplies, and dinner last night at Devon’s didn’t count. Man could not live by romps in the sand alone, no matter how hard Casey wanted to disprove that theory.

“Okay, keep the bed warm for your daddies,” Chuck said to the feline, who ignored him by trying to eat a loose thread on the blanket. Giving the cat a scratch behind the ears, he slid out of the bedroom and followed intuition into the kitchen. Coffee was brewing on the stove. There was no sign of Casey. The kid yawned loudly, rubbed the back of his neck, and poured himself a steaming cup.

“I wonder what’s for breakfast.” Since Casey wasn’t there to answer, and Chuck wasn’t much of a cook, he padded over to a wooden bowl on the kitchen table and snatched an apple. “Guess I can fend for myself,” he said, checking it over before taking a big bite.

Well, Casey had to be outside. Chuck pushed the kitchen door open without sloshing too much coffee and ambled to the back deck. His eyes traveled along the expanse of rolling dunes, north to south, but there was no one walking or jogging on the beach.

“Casey?” Chuck listened, but he only heard the waves rolling up on the beach, the wind rippling the sea grasses. Heaving a sigh, the kid meandered along the porch and stopped at the outdoor staircase, looked beyond the sandy path to the two-track road that led into town. “He wouldn’t go into town without leaving a note,” he said to himself.

Or without me. After four months of searching, the last thing they wanted to do was be separated, even for short times. It was stupid, Chuck knew, but it was as if the man each had discovered might disappear if he took a chance to let him out of his sight.

Knowing this urge to be together always would wear off after a while didn’t make it any less powerful. It was impossible to compare the compulsion to be with him to any other emotion he had felt in his life up until now. Late at night, with the kid hunched into his lover’s chest, Chuck’s subconscious realized what a gift he had found, what a gift it was to be trusted by a man who never let anyone this close. Never let anyone in before.

That urge pulled Chuck to the stairs and all the way to the bottom until his bare feet landed in the packed sand. When he glanced back, he had to smile at how far he had come in the past few weeks. Casey had stopped carrying him up and down the staircase two weeks ago, affirmation that he felt the kid was almost as good as new.

Okay, he still did fuss a little, but usually because he wanted to gauge if Chuck was up for a game of ‘Cheilt ar an Weiner.’

Subtle, Casey. True, Chuck hadn’t picked up more than a few phrases of Irish, but Casey’s dirty, low chuckle aided in the translation. Also helpful was the way Casey then used his body to pin him down, holding his abdomen pressed hard against him, pulling at his jeans with a grunt. The game would progress with Casey nipping at his neck, kissing, until the flames from the fire pulsed through his blood.

“Caaaseee. Where are you?” By now, he figured his new husband had to be feeding Vic or maybe cleaning his guns in the long, low shed behind the lean-to barn. That was something new he was learning about his new spouse; he had an over-zealous preoccupation for spotless weapons, and no matter how shiny, well, don’t even try to touch one.

Chuck’s fingers still stung a little, and dang, that was three nights ago.

As he rounded the corner to the lean-to shed, Vic raised her head from the mashed corn bucket and gave him a ‘what the hell’ look, strikingly similar to her Master’s.

“Hey, don’t let me interrupt,” Chuck said to the horse, holding up his hands. “Just looking for you-know-who. Um, have you seen him?” Hearing himself, the kid crinkled his nose. “Good going, Chuck. You’re talking to a horse now.”

Vic gave him that horse side-eye and went back to chewing.

Chuck rolled his eyes at her and veered around the corner of the lean-to, past a thick patch of sea oats to the pine-board clad structure Chuck just called the Junk-o-Lot shed. Eventually, it would have to get cleaned out and earn a new name, but for now, it held the previous owner’s collections of leather scraps, boards, maple-handled tools, and god-knows-what else lurking under the layers of dust.

Not that the kid minded. Woodsheds like this were a second home to him. A place to tinker, to dream. Though the kid was curious and eager to rummage, there were more important matters to attend to since the wedding. Some days, when the rain came in sideways and slapped cold and fierce against the windows, they had barely gotten out of the warm quilts.

The clank of metal on metal had Chuck jolting and turning his head towards the doorway to the dank shed. “Bit early to be making that much noise. Or not.” He finished the coffee in a few gulps, set the cup on the railing. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he poked his head around the corner.

There was Casey, as welcome as the warmth of sun on his shoulders. His husband had his back to him, facing a long workbench that held enough tools, wooden boxes, and rusty tin cans to obliterate its surface. He was rubbing something up and down, a fact Chuck could only measure by the movements of the muscles along his back.

The kid quietly climbed up on an old oak rain barrel that sat against a post inside the doorway, keeping his eyes focused at the other end of the dim shed. Light slanted in through one of the windows, illuminating motes of dust that drifted in its rays. Whatever Casey had in his hand, it was metal and heavy, he found out - only because when Casey gave it a toss into a wooden box, it made a hell of a racket.

Chuck was too busy staring to even jump a little. His husband had always been fascinating to watch work, only because he owned his body and every minute movement. Nothing extraneous, every twitch deliberate.

God, he was pretty.

Getting comfortable on his perch, Chuck watched Casey balance on the balls of his bare feet as he reached for something over his head on a shelf, studying it. He had the unconscious grace of giant panther when he moved; the view was enhanced by the lack of anything but a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. His husband’s back was pale, the muscles of his physique rolling under his skin like the powerful curve of water in the river when it was caught behind a fallen log.

“Ah, shit,” he heard Casey swear to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, back and forth, a gesture he made when he was thinking.

Chuck didn’t want to disturb his concentration, so he leaned back and bent one knee, placing his bare foot on the barrel while his other leg dangled. The back of Casey’s neck was plastered with small curls, wet from perspiration, and Chuck wanted nothing more than to climb off the barrel and run his hand through them, over his nape, But he behaved himself, because how many times did he get to just sneak up on him, enjoy the view in solitude.

“Gonna help, or just sit there and stare at my ass?” Casey asked without turning around.

Now that time, Chuck did feel his entire body jerk. “Um. Hi ... hi there, swee – John.” He stopped there to cough and forced himself to focus on the shelf behind Casey’s head. “And it wasn’t your ass.”

“You sure about that?” Casey peered past his shoulder, assessing, before he went back to rubbing a very long ax handle.

“It was your – your back.”

“That was my second guess,” he replied with a small snort. “I could feel it getting warm back there, brown eyes.”

“Well, you are sweating.” Chuck squinted at his husband’s broad back, rivulets of perspiration glistening on his bare shoulders. “Which brings me to my question: what are you doing out here?” Instead of waking me up with one of your more creative methods?

“What does it look like?”

Chuck watched Casey as he dragged a piece of cloth up and down the ax shaft. “Uh, cleaning a long piece of wood?”

“Mm.” Casey turned around finally, confirming his lips were twisted in a smirk. “Your powers of observation haven’t been properly fucked out of you. I’ll have to work on that.”

“Asshole,” Chuck muttered good-naturedly and took a bit of the apple. After chewing, he said, “Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”

Casey laughed. “Yeah? Is it?”

“What?” Chuck played back what he said and cleared his throat. “I mean, watching my half-naked husband engaged in manual labor.”

Casey set down the ax handle and cloth on the workbench, and sauntered over to the rain barrel where the kid was perched. Deliberately, his gaze roamed from Chuck’s face, to the shirt fluttered open, and down his long thighs and calves to his bare foot, dangling but not quite touching the ground. When his husband’s eyes swung up again, his smile was sexy, black Irish. “I wouldn’t mind a bite of that apple, kid.”

“You’ll owe me,” Chuck said, grinning up at him. He leaned back, settling his shoulders against the pole behind him and held up the apple. “Save some, okay?”

Casey encircled Chuck’s wrist with his palm, holding him there steadily, and ducked his head to take a bite. Those blue eyes never left Chuck’s face, contemplating as he chewed.

That attempt to get Chuck to refocus his brown eyes proved viable. The kid automatically drew his gaze down and blinked at Casey’s chin. Er, mouth. Casey had to know what he was doing, making Chuck’s attention settle on his lover’s lips in a way that had his own cock rising. Just last night, Casey let him watch that mouth work him, that tongue -

“Hey.”

Chuck shot straight up out of a crudely erotic daydream when he felt the apple bump against his own lips. “Um, hm?”

“Eyes up here, kid,” Casey said. “Wanna ... take a bite?”

Oh, God, did he ever. It was one of those moments among many where Casey could take the most mundane thing, and before the kid knew it, he could think of nothing but his own dick lengthening down his pant leg. And what Casey should do about that dilemma.

“You’ve learned to play nice,” Chuck said.

“Yeah, now bite,” Casey told him, nudging it in invitation for Chuck to open up.

Obediently, Chuck parted his lips and let Casey push the apple just a little bit further into his mouth. As he chewed, the kid felt his husband drop one hand on his upper thigh, a few fingers sliding along the inner seam of his jeans.

“Still hungry,” Casey said after Chuck had swallowed. “Think I’m gonna get another bite of that.”

“Oh, um, sure.” Chuck held up what was left of the apple. “Here.”

Casey focused on it briefly and then shot Chuck a look. The kid recognized it as ‘still can be the naïve dumb ass, eh?’ Moving the proffered apple out of the way, Casey lowered his head and sought the kid’s mouth, urgent. As he stepped closer, his arousal pressed against Chuck’s inner thigh, something that had Chuck automatically scooting forward to push back.

Oh, like that.

“Yeah, now you’re catching on,” Casey said against his lips in a mutter, following it with a groan at his own lack of control. Cupping the back of Chuck’s neck, he delved deep, tongue and teeth moving in a wet invitation, clashing.

Holy Christ, he got that taste he was after, and it wasn’t the apple. The problem was his lover’s mouth was intoxicating, and Chuck couldn’t have Casey’s lips on his anymore without wanting them in other places.

As if reading his mind, Casey moved to the kid’s throat, lightly biting him, scraping his teeth. He brought up his hands and caught hold of the sides of Chuck’s open shirt and pulled it down his arms, pushing forward so that Chuck found himself shoved back against the post, his upper body under the provocative suggestion of restraint.

Not that he wanted to move, especially as Casey ducked his head and nipped his jaw, the sensitive flesh of his neck, under his ear. “You’re nothing but damn temptation, brown eyes,” he whispered, searing heat against his skin. “Make me so hungry, don’t you.”

Hungry enough to bend his head in again to take his mouth, giving Chuck the tang of crisp green apple, coffee, and wet heat. Chuck automatically brought a trapped hand up as far as he could to Casey’s chest, feeling the smooth layers of muscles under his palms, moving and shifting as Casey put one arm across the kid’s shoulders. His tongue caressed, tasted, his mouth drifting to press his lips to Chuck’s collarbone, pushing the shirt further down to follow the fine line of bone to his shoulder. Casey set his teeth to him there, rasped lightly and sucked.

“C-Casey?”

“Mm?” Lips trailing back to his neck, Casey didn’t bother looking up from nuzzling his throat.

“Are you – ah - going to come with me tomorrow to pick up Ellie at the train station?”

Hey, it seemed like the time to ask.

As soon as he put the question out there, Chuck dipped his head to give him better access to the vulnerable flesh over his long tendon, hoping Casey would take the hint to keep going.

Casey didn’t take it. Instead, the kid felt Casey’s breath expel on his throat as he pulled back a little, his hardening groin that had been touching his hip now gone.

“Never knew a woman who could cock block from four hundred miles away,” Casey growled.

“She ... did?” Chuck’s eyes bugged wide as Casey dropped a kiss on the end of his nose and backed away, walking over to the workbench again.

“Yep.”

Chuck took another bite of the apple, a bit perturbed. “Wow, note to self: Never, ever, bring up Ellie’s name during a feisty game of ‘let’s desecrate the workshop next.’”

Casey couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. He picked up a wooden hammer and pounded it against the workbench a few times, apparently testing it to see if it was worth keeping. Chuck watched him with curiosity, until Casey turned around again. “Why are you smiling, anyway, stud?”

“Well, she is my sister, but that’s not the reason.”

“What is?”

“I was thinking about our dinner at Devon’s last night,” Chuck said, crossing his ankles and letting his feet swing. “When Devon asked for my permission to court Ellie?”

“Seems like closing the barn after the horses are let out.”

“But it’s polite. Nice, you know?” Chuck pulled the shirt to get it back up over his shoulders, since it seemed Casey wouldn’t be shoving it down any further or removing it for the time being. “Devon has heard ... some stories about my father, so he said he considered me the man in her family now.”

Casey wisely waited for him to take another bite and swallow. “No word from Ellie on that topic?”

“No ... nothing.” Chuck tossed the core of the apple towards a bucket, missed completely, and decided to leave it there for the rodents that had obviously taken up shop there. “Well, not much, I guess. She’s barely brought him up, and only included the one newspaper article from the Globe.” He had to believe there was sizable coverage in the papers, so maybe she was editing what she shared. After all, his father, the vaunted Railroad Baron of the Hill, had returned from Colorado without the land deal he had already convinced his investors was in the front pocket. A considerable amount of money was ... missing. According to Ellie’s letters, the reverberations from the scandal in Boston were dying down, but she had little more to say than that.

“What else is in these letters?” Casey picked up a tin can and dumped out the contents on the workbench. Nails and screws rolled everywhere. “Lemme guess. She’s got a hankerin’ for cornbread and grits – served off a certain bisque-doll doctor’s flat abs, I suppose?”

“That is my sister you’re talking about.” Chuck hopped off the barrel and walked up to the workbench to stand next to Casey. With nothing better to do at the moment, he began sorting the screws and nails. Why the heck were they here anyway? “If you were going to guess that she is writing pages and pages and trying not to talk about Dr. Devon Woodcomb, then you would be correct, my husband.”

“Damage report?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s completely smitten with him. I’m her brother. I can read between the lines.”

“Heh.” Casey snorted and turned his attention to a mean-looking hacksaw that Chuck wondered if he could keep. “Bastaird bocht.”

“And I find it insulting that he’s the poor bastard in this equation,” Chuck said, elbowing him in the stomach playfully.

Casey glanced over in surprise to hear the translation from him. After a second, he shook his head. “You’re getting too big for your britches, kid.” His eyes slid over him, studying the offending garment. “I might just have to take them off.”

“Promises, promises,” Chuck mumbled. “And for the record, I thought that’s where we were headed.”

“Soon enough, sunshine.” Casey reached out with the nail hook on a hammer to catch the waistband of the kid’s jeans, and used it quite handily to pull Chuck right up to him. “Right now ... I was thinking about the other part of the conversation last night.”

Chuck glimpsed down at his trapped pants. “Okay, for one, that is not the appropriate use of a hammer’s claw, and two, what other part of the conversation? Because, honestly, big guy, when Devon went on about delivering the McCandishes’ square-headed baby, you looked like you were going to fall asleep.”

Casey gave a little jerk on the handle, making Chuck’s hip rub up to him. “I think you meant ‘wanted to saw my ears off with a rusty sawblade.’”

“Um, he does have a tendency to go into details.” Chuck lifted a shoulder. “I guess I got immune to it.”

Casey grunted. “But, no, that wasn’t the conversation I was thinking of, either.”

“Okay, I give up.” Knowing Casey wasn’t going to let him loose until he said his piece, Chuck relaxed a hip against his firm thigh and waited. “What was it?”

“The workshop.”

Chuck squinted at him. “I didn’t think you were paying attention to that.”

“Wanna know how many people got dead thinking I wasn’t paying attention to them?”

“Um, no ... no, that’s, uh, quite all right.” Chuck patted his husband’s shoulder a bit gingerly and shook his head to clear away that image. “I’m just getting over the Liam Nightmares, so I really don’t need anything else to feed that neurosis, but thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome, pancake.” Casey patted his cheek, released the hook in Chuck’s jeans, and went back to sorting the collection of stuff he was sure to call junk that Chuck would call priceless treasures. “Want to hand me those calipers?”

“Impressive. You know what it is.” Chuck picked up the pointy tool, looked at it, and gave it to him. “What about my workshop?”

“Gonna help me, or just keep splitting your time between staring at my back and ass?”

“Is that a choice or sarcasm?” Chuck brought his eyes up. “Because you’re not going to like the answer.”

“Smartass.”

“Your ass,” Chuck replied, attempting a leer.

“Here. Take this,” Casey said, handing him a giant tin can, “and start deciding what’s crap and what’s worth keeping –”

“Are you sure you want me to do that?”

Casey gave him a side-eye glance. “I’ll edit as we go.”

“Spoken like a true husband,” Chuck observed, pawing through the can. “Oh, hey, I could use this.”

Casey smacked his ass to get him to scoot over. “Never gonna get this done if you stop and drool on everything.”

“Want to know what I was really staring at, John?”

“What?” Casey asked, flipping a broken pair of pliers off to the side.

“Your charming personality.” Chuck pasted on his sweetest smile, his lashes sweeping down as he kept pawing through the nails and screws for anything worth keeping.

He felt another smack, this one a bit more permissive than the other. “Keep looking at me that way, and you’ll never get your workshop out of this place.”

“My what now?” Chuck scrunched his brow at him before looking around the dusty shed. “Here?”

“Yeah, here,” Casey replied, the muscles of his shoulders rippling as he shrugged. “You got a problem with that?”

“Problem? Wait, hang on.” Chuck reached out and touched Casey’s arm. “So is that what this is about?”

“Hand me that crate, will ya?”

“Nice try, Mr. Avoidance,” Chuck said. “So that’s the part of the conversation last night that’s been on your mind.” When his partner didn’t look up, the kid hoisted himself onto the workbench and helped himself to a set of slightly rusty woodworking tools that Casey had in a throwaway pile. Sorting gave him momentary distraction. “You, um, heard me say that I want to go back to work on the flying machine ... and since my workshop is at Devon’s ....”

“You’ll be spending a lot of time there ....” Casey trailed off and held up a saw, tested the blade with his thumb.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Chuck said, trying not to eye the crosscut saw.

“Hell, no. He’s in love with your sister, cupcake.” Casey looked over at him and winked. “And you’re head over heels in love with me.”

“And your brilliant sense of modesty,” Chuck told him, giving him a shy smile because he couldn’t deny it. “Can’t forget that, can we?”

“Know what I like to do to impertinent little wiseasses?”

“Sorry,” Chuck said quickly. Casey caught a mallet he tossed to him. The kid grinned. “But what does this have to do with the workshop?”

Casey twisted the mallet in his hand. “I was looking for that.”

“I know. The workshop?”

“You’ll be going back into town often, I suppose,” Casey said.

“Well, yes.”

“And it’s not very ... convenient.”

“Do you mean ... safe?” Chuck asked hesitantly, pretending to pick over a pair of horse grooming clippers that were obviously broken.

“That too,” Casey said after a long pause. The mallet rolled in his hands a few more times before he stopped and suddenly pounded the club against the bench with too much force, nearly breaking it. “That should do. Put in in the Keep pile.”

“Um, sure.” Now that Chuck was somewhat familiar with this secret language, he knew breaking things meant something was bothering his partner. The kid shrugged helplessly and scratched the back of his head, leaving his hand resting on the back of his neck. “There’s always going to be risk, Casey. Hiding out in the open like this ....”

“I can handle your dad and his merry band of assholes, cupcake.” Casey slid a stack of old boards over and revealed something that made his eyes narrow before a glint lit them up. “Yeah, and there’s a new teacher if I have to give that little lesson ... heh.”

A worn, leather holster of some sort, Chuck recognized. “Teacher?”

“Yeah ....” He watched as his husband took hold of the handle protruding from the holster and yanked. Out came a Bowie knife that had to have belonged to a giant. It seemed to fit in Casey’s hand pretty well. “Meet the new professor. Damn. She’s pretty ....”

“Pretty dangerous?” Chuck asked, filling in for him.

“Nah.” Casey gave it another reverent look and smirked. “I was just going to say pretty.”

Chuck eyed the blade that he was sure Casey would have shiny in no time. A dried brown substance along its surface made him gulp. “Wow, sometimes I forget how scary you are.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t gut the first one that tries to come sniffing around you ..?” Casey examined it more closely, whisked it through the air a few times before finishing off with a stab through his imaginary foe’s heart. Chuck swore he heard the same growl his partner made during their lovemaking emanate from his chest. “Mm. I wouldn’t mind testing it out. If they made me.”

“Please put that way before I wet myself.”

Casey ran a few fingers down the blade, half-mesmerized, and finally shoved it back in the holster. It landed gently in the pile that Chuck was already calling ‘don’t even think of touching that.’ “My point, puppy, is that this is your home ... and I think you’d like to have your workshop here.”

“Here? But I thought ... you had claimed it for yourself. For your, um, heavy artillery, your horse ... the boat you want to build?”

“I have other places. You can have this.”

“Wow.” Chuck played with his thumb, tugging on it with his other hand while he looked around. It had potential. “But there is the other minor point.”

“What’s that, kid?”

“That you think my ideas are a little, well ... crazy.” Chuck frowned. It didn’t seem fair to describe them with such contempt. For years, he had lived with the something in his head that was inconceivable to most people. But the dreams had ruthlessly kicked a hole in his brain and grew wings. “I’m just surprised you’d be willing to give this up for me. I mean, weren’t you the one who told me you wanted nothing to do with something that is -” and Chuck put up sarcastic air quotes – “‘Going to send me off a cliff like a drunken bushwhacker and get my fool-self killed’?”

A light smile crossed Casey’s face, but it had no hope of reaching his eyes. It was swept under by an implacable look a moment later. “When I see you building your machine, it scares the hell out of me,” he said. “It also ... ah, hell,” and he halted briefly before quietly admitting, “There’s a part of me that’s just fucking amazed by it.”

Chuck stopped fiddling with a screwdriver he had found and set it carefully on the bench. When he looked over at Casey, he just shook his head numbly. “You ... believe in me. My ideas, my ... dreams. That someday it could happen?”

“Jesus, kid,” Casey muttered, turning a hard stare to where Chuck sat on the workbench. He moved to stand directly in front of him between his spread knees. “No matter what I used to think, you deserve to try. What the hell kind of husband would I be if I tried to stop you from being yourself?”

“Did you say used to?” Chuck asked.

“And you sure as hell shouldn’t listen to nay-sayers and people who will always tell you that you can’t,” Casey went on. He placed his hands on Chuck’s thighs, his fingers curling around them over the denim. They clenched, holding the kid completely in place. “I think I’ve watched you long enough, pancake.”

“You have?”

“You’re smart.” Casey narrowed his eyes at Chuck’s baffled smile. “Beyond that, stubborn as hell and sometimes a pain in the ass.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Shut it. Not done.” Casey shook his head, reached out with one hand and took Chuck’s in his. It felt like it weighed three times what his did, three times as powerful, too, the kid suspected. His knees were nudged further apart and it made him look straight at Casey and nothing else.

“Okay, you officially have my attention,” Chuck said.

Studying him for a moment, his husband scanned the workshop, making Chuck’s eyes wander, too. Flecks of dust caught in the slant of sunrays over Casey’s head, hung like an unworldly halo, out of place on a man who gave up on purity years ago. It didn’t make Chuck love him any less.

“I know exactly what I see,” Casey said at last, and he gave his fingers a squeeze. “I see a man who doesn’t give up. Men like you will do what they say they’re going to do, even when men like me say they can’t. Hell, the world’s greatest wonders came out of others throwing doubt at the ones who never forgot … how to dream, I reckon.”

For a minute, Chuck just blinked at him and swallowed down the ball of barbed wire that had settled in his throat. He felt a burn behind his eyes, but pushed it back and held on to Casey’s hand.

“It may take years from now, but you’re damn well gonna do it,” Casey continued softly, eyes pinned to his, “So, I’m going to do something about it. This is yours, kid.”

“I ... don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.” Leaning forward, Casey kissed him with intent, pulling at the placket of the open shirt and allowing his hand to drag up and down Chuck’s bare ribcage under the cotton chambray. When Casey drew his lips under the kid’s ear, Chuck tried not to show how the contact rippled through him, ached in his bones as if he’d been gripped by a sweet sickness that he never wanted to be cured of. “Then,” Casey rumbled against his ear, “before I take you upstairs, no matter how badly you want it, you’re gonna help me get this place cleared out.”

Chuck, who had already let his hands begin their own exploration of Casey’s firm chest, pulled back to frown at him. As the two men regarded each other, Casey’s jaw relaxed into a rueful grin. “I could convince you, you know,” the kid said, but he resigned himself to the fact there was work to do before play, so he rolled his eyes and picked up the can of loose screws and tacks. “You’re no pillar of restraint when it comes to ... things besides cleaning the workshop.”

“Compromise. Let’s get part way done,” Casey said. He pulled Chuck’s hand up, kissed his fingers before letting go. Turning, he picked up the ax again, shoving the loose blade onto the handle. “Then you can tell me all about your plans for using me. Lemme guess. You want me to clean your old workshop next?”

Chuck looked at the way his eyes flicked down and to the left. His partner really did enjoy yanking his chain. He wanted Chuck to say it. Maybe ask nicely.

The big asshole, Chuck thought. A devilish voice whispered a suggestion in his ear. Normally, he would’ve ignored it, but ... Casey had started it.

So Chuck forced the look of desire off his face, and instead made himself give off a put-upon sigh as his eyes searched around the workshop. “It’s too bad, really,” the kid said.

Casey took a break from his attempt to jam the head of the ax on straight and cocked a brow at him. “What’s too bad, muffin?”

“It’s not going to fit.”

Casey shot an impish glance down at Chuck’s legs. “It has so far.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Chuck replied under his breath. “The flying machine, Casey.”

“Oh.” Casey chuckled and tapped Chuck’s knee. “Sure you can call it that?”

“Are you ready to be serious?”

Casey lifted his head. “Why the hell won’t it fit?”

“We are talking about the same thing, aren’t we?” Chuck held out his arms as far as he could. “Yay wide?”

“So?”

“Through that door over there.” Chuck tipped his head in the direction of the cracked pine boards barely held together that covered the entrance. He did his best to withhold a snicker, but one escaped anyway. “You have seen my plane before, correct?”

“What are you saying, Bartowski?” Casey gave the ax head one more decent shove, and it slid into place. Chuck hated to think what he could do with someone’s head. Especially if that someone was teasing him.

“Um, well,” Chuck went on, bravely darting a glimpse at the ax Casey held in his meaty fist, “it means, though I appreciate your offer, boo bear -”

“Oh, that’s an ass slap if I ever heard one,” Casey noted gleefully. “Don’t even think that passes code –”

“Ah, sorry – but my point is, I won’t be able to use this –” and Chuck motioned around at the interior of the workshop. “Uh, thanks, anyway?”

Casey, straightening to look over at the doorway, seemed to tighten and draw up like a bull. “Because of that doorway, huh?”

“Well, the entire wall, actually.” Chuck shook his head in mock regret, doing his best not to smile. “I promise not to spend more than, oh, I don’t know, eight to ten hours a day in town in my workshop there. But I’m sure you understand ... being the supportive husband and all.”

Before Chuck could laugh at the hard look on Casey’s face, Casey grunted and moved past him, facing the wall. A dead end.

Chuck cleared his throat. “Hey, what are you doing? Pretty sure you won’t find another door there –”

Casey lifted the ax and swung it through the wall. Hard. Wood exploded, splinters flying, the entire structure wobbling. He swung again for good measure, forming a decent sized hole.

Chuck gaped. “Holy – wait, Casey!” Why didn’t it occur to him that his husband would tear a wall down? Oh, right. Only someone half invincible, half insane would do that. The kid jumped down from the workbench. “Casey, I should tell you –!”

“Get back,” Casey ordered. “It’ll fit.” The ax flew again, smashing the brittle boards into pieces. Chuck could see daylight beyond the craggy opening. Vic stood there on the other side of the fence, tail swishing. And if a horse could have a look that said, ‘what the fuck’, well, that was it.

Chuck opened his mouth, wondering how to tell Casey about the wing clips he had designed years ago. The idea came to him the first time he had tried to take his plane out of his work shed back home. Necessity might be the mother of invention, but she was the stepmom of stupidity, and he found out as a teenager that the wings would need to be removable.

That didn’t seem important right now. No one had busted down anything to make room for him. John Casey made room in other places, too, hidden ones – or maybe the kid had just snuck in when he wasn’t really expecting it.

Either way, Chuck had broken through those shields. Knowing it now, seeing the proof, a brimming sense of love descended over everything in that tiny shed. It wasn’t the perfect solution. Nothing was. But they would figure it out and keep building.

“Is that going to fit, brown eyes, or do you need to me to knock down the whole damn thing?”

“Like nothing else has. I think it’s going to be okay.” Chuck’s smile was awestruck, man-killer. “I think I’m ready for anything.”

Casey rolled his eyes with a smile. Then he turned to swing the ax through the door. It crumbled down, the same as every wall when it met an unmatchable force, like a kid with curly brown hair and dark eyes.

Casey stepped away to wipe his brow. “Now it’s big enough.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Chuck asked, strolling up behind him. Sweat rolled down Casey’s back, down his biceps, but the kid didn’t mind. He wrapped his arms around him from behind and lowered his cheek to one hard shoulder. He put a hand on the heat of his chest, the heat of the man beneath the flesh, and his own hand dug in, holding him tightly. “Big enough, John. It’s going to be perfect.”

The hole was big enough for both of them, big enough for their dreams to fly through it. And Chuck couldn’t wait to see what was on the other side.

Fini

-x- Where the Road Ends-x-

A/N the Finale: I’m grateful, happy, and relieved to have reached this ending! It’s because of you I made it here. Sometimes I felt the end was nowhere in sight, but I knew I had to keep going – I made a promise to you that I would.

It’s time for me to dip my toes in the water and do this on my own. Hell, I’m going to jump in all the way, roll around, splash, and have a blast! I don’t yet know where or how I’ll publish my first original work, but it’s taking shape and growing. I’ll post where to find it when I decide in case you are interested.

In a way, this isn’t a solid good-bye to these two, because my real challenge will be keeping my new characters far enough away from being them.

You see …

Jackson Labadie is the Chief of Police in a college town, where the job is busy but a shitty routine - until a doctorate student and nerd by all accounts stumbles into the station to report a crime. For a smart kid, he seems to have forgotten a few details, and now the FBI has swooped in to help him remember what he might’ve left out. Overnight, the country becomes a scarier place to live - and there really shouldn’t be a logical connection between the two ….

Now Jackson has to work with the kid, build his trust and go through the bureaucrat’s hoops to keep him out of trouble. And when all of this is over, he must stop wondering what else is hidden behind those bruised hazel eyes and the oversized hoodie that hangs on him like innocence. Because the government is convinced he’s not.

 

UPDATE: Thank you for being here! I have written the first two books in my own original Trespasser series, so I would love for you to join us in adventures and steamy times - Jackson Labadie and Quincy Zielinski may remind you of two characters we both love, but I hope I've made them enough of my own ;). I'm working my way through the submission process, but in the meantime, please visit and subscribe to my website for updates and even a sneak peak. If I get shot down, I will self-publish and also keep you in the loop. 

elizaskyewrites.com 

Until then,

Many thanks,

-skye

xoxoxox


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